Three Strikes 5 of 12 in a series
by mccoylover
Summary: This one begins with the last few chapters of Stepping Into the Past, told from a different point of view. Starting with Danielle and Sam's date,continuing Jack and Brooke's romance after she accepts his proposal as well as their bumpy road to the alter
1. Danielle's Date

_Have been playing with this siliness since I finished **Stepping Into the Past. **This one starts out with Danielle Melnick's blind date with Sam Prescott, that is mentioned in one of the final chapters of **SITP. **If you are one for Jack & Brooke stories this one will get back to them in due time. With the premier of L and O coming soon, I assume my draft of this one will be revised as we see Jack and the new guy in action._

"You told Brooke about the Five Stages of Love?! My God, I can't believe you even remember that silly thing! Jack,do you _want_ to go back to Manhattan General," Danielle Melnick asked incredulously as she looked at the cell phone in her hand.

_Leave __it __to Jack __McCoy __to add drama to a simple trip home from the hospital_…she thought as her cab crossed Hogan Place on its way to _Clancy's Traven_. _The one time I want to ask Romeo for __advice__, he loses his touch and manages to piss of his current flame…and he does it the day he decides to propose, of all times!_

"…Listen, Jack it's simple," Melnick, continued, making a valiant effort to hide her annoyance, "you call her. …Do you want my advice or do you want to argue? … Good. Now, you call her. You tell her you acted like an idiot because you have been terrified you were going to lose her-…Yes, I said 'terrified'…yes, you were…you were, so... Jack! Do you want to be proud or do you want to be happy? ... Well, you_ have_ to pick one !...Good. Tell her to get on the next train back to Manhattan and when she arrives don't let her leave until she agrees to marry you…"

Melnick raised her shoulder so she could continue the conversation as she slipped her compact and lipstick out of the black velvet clutch bag. She carefully ran the tube of 'Evening Sunset' over her lips as she thought about Randy Dworkin's pitch to her.

Melnick just left Judge Rivera's chambers when she saw Dworkin and another man standing by the elevator. Neither had heard the soft tap of her heels as she joined them. She smiled at the stranger who was telling Dworkin in no uncertain terms what he thought of something Dworkin wanted him to do.

"…Randy, you can pitch it a million different ways and I'll find a million different ways to tell you 'no'. Now I may be a little rusty after all these years but when I was prosecutin' drug lords and kidnappers, it seemed to me that their counsel had to do what the client asked, not the other way around. Has that changed?"

"Sam, it's the duty of counsel-," Dworkin began.

The stranger pressed a finger to Dworkin lips, as he smiled back at Melnick.

"Eck. Now, Randy, answer the question. Yes or no, has that changed?"

Melnick couldn't see her colleagues face, but she knew Randy Dworkin well enough to be able to imagine the look of defeat she on his face. Finally, he shook his head. The stranger glowed with pleasure as he took his finger away.

"Good. Then we understand each other, "he said firmly. "No more talk about bringin' Mal into the courtroom."

The man smoothed his tie and vest down, giving Melnick a slight bow.

"Now that that's settled, I think I'll get a little exercise and take the stairs. See you in the mornin' Randy."

Melnick watched the tall, lean figure move down the hall towards the stairs.

"Danielle, are you coming?"

Melnick turned to see Dworkin all ready inside the elevator and holding the door for her. She blushed as she stepped inside the elevator car. Dworkin smiled at her embarrassment.

"He's available, Dani."

"If he's a client, he may not be available for long," she countered as she pressed the button for the main floor.

"Oh, this one is innocent. Haven't you been following the Prescott case?"

"That was him? That was Sam Prescott? Gee, I pictured someone in a ten gallon hat and cowboy boots- the way the guys at the states attorney's office paint him. The man's their version of Superman and John Wayne rolled into one."

Dworkin nodded.

"He's got quite a reputation," Dworkin said as the imaginary wheels in his brain began to spin.

Melnick could see Dworkin was up to something and she didn't plan on sticking around to find out what it was. Once the doors opened, Melnick strode quickly towards the Centre Street exit.

"Dani, wait," Dworkin said as he breathlessly caught up with her. "Listen, the trial isn't going to last much longer. The guy just came out of hiding, his marriage is over. He really could use a friend right now."

"You mean to say Brooke isn't staying with him," she asked.

Melnick figured when all was said and done the Prescott's would reconcile. At least based on the late night, scotch filled, conversations she'd had with District Attorney Jack McCoy over the corse of the trial.

"Between us," Dworkin asked quietly. "If that marriage wasn't over when Sam left without so much as a word to her in the last five years, it was over when Brooke fell for your friend McCoy. Sam knows it. He's just waiting for the trial to finish before taking the necessary steps to end it."

Melnick stared at Dworkin. She knew Randy Dworkin could pull almost anything to try to get a client an acquittal. Especially a client he believed to be innocent. It was common knowledge in Manhattan legal circles that Prescott's wife and Jack McCoy had been seeing each other for months. It was also common knowledge that Melnick and McCoy were good friends. The last thing she wanted to do was to be used as a pawn by Randy Dworkin against McCoy.

"Tell you what Randy, if you manage to get Prescott acquitted, I'll have a drink with him. But not before," she said increasing her speed as she moved down the courthouse steps.

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Melnick scanned the crowded bar, half hoping the attractive West Virginian would be a no show, half curious about the man who had captured her attention almost two weeks before.

"Danielle Rose?"

Melnick turned to find Prescott beside her, his hand outstretched holding a perfectly formed long stemmed white rose.

"Now, I realize red is the customary color, but seein' as how I haven't done this in a while, I figured white was much more appropriate. 'Specially with your reputation."

Melnick inhaled the fresh scent of the rose and looked inquisitively up at Prescott.

"White usually symbolizes new beginnings, so I understand the reference to you entering the single world. But you lost me with my reputation."

Prescott reached out protectively as a group of businessmen moved passed to get to the door, a few staggering as they went.

"Tell ya what, would you mind if we went someplace a little less chaotic? I can't hear myself think in here."

Melnick nodded and let him guide her out the door and into the early evening breeze. After a brief discussion, the pair agreed to a quick cab ride out of the down town area and over to Forty Sixth Street to an Italian restaurant that had been a fovorite of Prescott's before he left New York and five years of Witness Protection.

"After all this time, half of the hot spots I knew have either moved or closed all together," he said as the cab pulled into traffic.

Melnick nodded.

"Things change pretty fast around Manhattan," she agreed as she looked down at the flower. "I believe you were going to tell me about my reputation?"

"Indeed, I was. I didn't need ol' Randy to tell me about you. Danielle Melnick was a name that struck fear into the hearts of even the most seasoned prosecutors when I worked for the Southern District."

Melnick laughed, slightly embarrassed but none the less flattered by, what she knew by his tone, was meant as a compliment.

"I doubt anything ever struck fear into your heart when you were a federal prosecutor."

Prescott smiled bashfully.

"Maybe a thing two," he said thoughtfully. "But, we were talkin' about you. I'll have you know Ben Stone told me about your work on the Blaine case way back in '91. Hench the white rose. Only a woman with a pure heart and sense of innocence, could take on the cases you have," he said seriously. "The kind of traits symbolized by a white rose."

Melnick put a hand to her cheek, feeling the glow of a blush. She lowered her eyes once more, momentarily flustered.

"I apologize if I embarrassed you with that remark," he said with sincerity that surprised her.

He lightly placed his hand where in the area where he'd read a bullet had hit her a few years before. Melnick looked up at him even more startled.

"But after what you've been through, you should be anything but embarrassed."

"I'm not the one who survived mafia death threats, much less a murder trial," Melnick countered as composed herself.

Prescott started to reply, but waited when Melnick's cell phone rang.

"How rude of me," she said as she reached into her purse. "I thought I shut it off."

"A client," he offered, when he noticed the frown on her lips after she read the caller ID.

"A friend whose going to go right back in the hospital if this isn't important," she replied as she opened the phone. "Listen, if you didn't break your stitches open, I'm hanging up…If you didn't do what I told you to do, then there's no point-…. She was? Well, that's good. You don't have to wait another hour to resolve… "

Melnick suddenly moved the phone away from her ears as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard.

"You thought you heard _wh__o_ when you called her…_Logan_," she asked incredulously, before her tone became accusatory. "How many pain pills did you take? ... You have to ask _why_? Because you're delusional, that's why! "

Prescott leaned back and nodded in response to Melnick's apologetic look.

"… Now is not a good time to discuss that…because," she said lowering her voice as she turned towards the window. "Because with someone …yes, we're on our way to dinner … Call me in the morning and let me know what she says," she commanded as she snapped the phone shut.

"That's another reason I chose a white rose," he said knowingly.

Melnick shook her head, once again, not following his train of thought.

"Word has it, you're part of a dyin' breed, Danielle Rose," he explained with a wink. "You are one of the few women in this town that knows Jack McCoy well, that hasn't 'known' him in the biblical sense."

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	2. The History of the 5 Stages

When the pair entered _Le __Rivera _they could hear the sound of the piano music coming from candle lit lounge. When asked by the hostess, the pair quickly opted for a table in the lounge, as opposed to waiting a minimum of forty minutes for a table in the main dining room.

After conferring on a choice of wine, the waiter sent down a basket of assorted breads and discreetly disappeared.

Prescott surveyed the room and then turned his attention to the menu.

"Well now, with the exception of some fresh paint and what appears to be some new window dressin's, it looks like things have stayed pretty much as they were before I left. I see 'Vinnie's Velvet Veal' is still the Friday special."

"As far as I know, the Rosselli family still owns the place," Melnick offered. "I think the older son took over after Vinnie passed on."

"Nice to know something's are still the same."

Melnick studied the long face carefully. Even if she hadn't made her career reading people, the slight air of melancholy beneath the charming exterior was unmistakable. Prescott glanced up sensing Melnick's thoughtful gaze.

"What are your plans now that the trial is over,"Melnick asked.

"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure. I've had a few offers. The the States Attorney's Office in Albany has been especially aggressive. Looks like I can square things with the New York bar next week. So I need to make a decision in the next week or two about a job. For now, Mal and I have already divided most of the assets and debt. Just a matter of gettin' the house sold."

"Mal?"

"Brooke's maiden name was Malinowski," he explained. "'Pose it won't be long until I'll be callin' her Mick," Prescott shook his head, immediately wishing he could take back his words.

"Sam, I obviously this is a difficult time for you. Just because Randy strong armed you into-"

"Gosh, Danielle. I aplogize," he said regretfully. "The last thing I want to do is put a damper on this evenin'. You don't deserve that and I've been lookin' forward to this evenin' since Randy told me who it was he was settin' me up with."

"Come on Sam, you don't have to say that."

Prescott waited until the waiter finished pouring the wine before taking her hand.

"It's the truth, on my honor. I'll admit, when Randy first started this blind date business, I had my doubts. But, when he told me _you_ were the young lady from the elevator, I was intrigued."

Melnick gave him a doubtful look.

"You don't believe me," he said with feigned hurt. "Well, let me prove it to you. That day, you wore your hair up - although I must admit - you look even lovelier tonight with it down around your shoulders. You were wearing red single breasted suit, and red and black stripe blouse. Again, you looked lovely, but the green in your dress tonight sure does bring out your eyes. Oh, and you wore black pearl earrings."

Melnick's eyes were wide with amazement. She had thought her long standing friendship with McCoy had made her immune to a display so obviously meant to flatter her. Looking across the table at Prescott's satisfied smile, she knew she was wrong.

"Alright you've convinced me," she said struggling to regain her composure, "and I'll admit I am touched. But, I can only image how difficult this is for you. Not only dealing with all the changes in your life, but dating again. Dating one of your rival's closest friends, as well."

"McCoy? Aw, he's hardly my rival," he said waving the slice of French bread in his hand slightly. "To be a rival there would have to be a competition. The situation wasn't like that. 'Sides, if Mal – Brooke – ever heard I implied she was a prize the two of us fought over, she'd smack me into next week. No, I can't blame any of us, really. I let her go, I knew she'd move on, whether she wanted to or not. Hell, I_ wanted_ her to move on. Didn't want her mourning a man that wasn't even dead the rest of her life."

"Still couldn't be easy when you realized how serious she and Jack were," Melnick added sympathetically.

"Well, I've had better days," he admitted. "Then again, I fell in love again myself. I can hardly fault Brooke for doin' the same."

As the evening progressed, Prescott recalled his brief second marriage. Melnick found herself not only liking, but admiring the man across from her. Melnick had lost a sister to cancer. Listening to Prescott recall his second wife's chemotherapy brought memories of her sisters struggles to the surface, that she shared as well. The compassion he showed for her loss warmed her heart. She could see by the look in his eyes when he talked about his late wife, the marriage had been one of love and not pity.

By the time they had finished dessert and coffee it was almost eleven. Melnick found she was disappointed that the evening was nearly over. The quick drink she had planned on had turned into one of the most pleasant evenings in her recent memory.

"Well now," Prescott began as the waiter refilled their coffee cups. "I can hardly let the evenin' end on such a depressin' note."

"This has been a lovely evening, Sam. At least from this side of the table," Melnick said as she gently swayed to the medley of Sinatra tunes that came from the piano a few feet away.

"On this side of the table as well. However, death, divorce, cancer and chemotherapy are not exactly side splittin' topics, now are they Danielle Rose?"

"Well, if you want side splitting, maybe I should tell you..."

Prescott cocked his headwhen Melnick's voice suddenly wavered. He rested his chin in his hands as he dutifully stared at the suddenly silent Melnick.

"Aw come on, don't tell me Danielle Melnick's run out of things to say," he said pensively.

"It was a silly story…something Jack and I came up with a few years ago. Obviously, not something you'd want to hear about."

"Now wait a minute," Prescott said curiously. "This little…invention… is humoress?"

"Very."

"But, I don't get to hear about it, because McCoy had a hand in it?"

"I didn't think you'd _want_ to hear about it because McCoy had a hand in it," she countered.

Prescott once again reached across the table. Melnick smiled as she found her hand once more in his warm and steady grip.

"Well, if you have to censor yourself when you're in my presence that could take the fun out of another date for you, now couldn't it?"

Melnick could feel her face glowing with pleasure while she lowered her eyes. Even though Prescott was a professional 'enemy' and a big one given he was leaning towards going back to the states attorney's office, she found herself hoping he'd turn down the Albany position and stuck around Manhattan long enough for her to get to know him better.

"I can't image not enjoying myself when I'm out with you, even if we both spent the evening mute."

"Danielle Melnick mute," he said with a chuckle. "Now_ that's_ an amusin' thought. Seriously, I know Jack's your friend and while I won't say I want to hear about the man every time I see you, I'd like to think my ego is strong enough to hear an occasional whimsical tale that might include him."

Melnick set her coffee cup down and nodded.

"Have it your way. You know Jack's been around the block a couple of times?"

"Romantically speakin'? I know Jack's been around the solar system a couple of times."

"Well, I've had one or two disappointments in that area myself," she said smiling at Prescott's knowledge of her friend's personal reputation. "The last major one was about three years ago, not long after Jack's second divorce."

"You disappointed romantically? Obviously, you've been seeing the wrong kind of man, darlin'," he said as he kissed her hand.

Melnick shook her head.

"Apparently smooth talk doesn't limit itself to the Irish," she said shrewdly.

Prescott tipped his head and gestured for her to continue.

"All right. I walk into _Clancy's_ planning to have a bowl of red chowder and to try to get Jack agree to deal down my client from Murder Two to Man One, minimum time. Anyway, by the time I meet up with him, Jack half way through a bottle of Dewar's….

_"Danielle, how the hell are you,"_McCoy exclaimed as he stood and warmly embraced his old nemesis.

_"Clearly not as good as you feel,"_ Melnick said as she eyed the half empty bottle of scotch on the bar in front of EADA Jack McCoy.

Melnick shook her head as she slipped onto the seat beside McCoy, the bartender setting a glass of ice in front of her. She watched as McCoy carefully filled first her glass, then his own, grinning sheepishly at her the whole time.

_"I know what you came here for Danielle,"_ he said suggestively as he leaned against the bar. "_Maybe by the time we finish this bottle of scotch, I'll be ready to let you have your way with me."_

The sound of Melnick's laughter filled the nearly empty bar.

_"Come on Jack, you know I can't hold you to a plea agreement if there's more alcohol in your blood than white blood cells_," she said as she started to get up.

McCoy reached over and rested his hands on her waist.

_"Danielle, I need you tonight_," he said seriously._ "Can't you leave the defense lawyer hat on the rack by the door and put on the 'friend who knows me better than I know myself' hat?"_

Melnick sighed as she sat back down and looked into the mischievous brown eyes.

_"Denise again?"_

_"God Danielle, what was I thinking? How could have been so blind to what an opportunistic shrew that woman is,"_ he asked intently.

_"Maybe because you have always been good at choosing the package with the pretty wrapping paper, but not so good at stopping to think about what might be lurking inside it,"_ she replied as she sipped the scotch. _"So what did your soon to be ex do now?"_

_"Do you know who Alyssa Goodwin is?"_

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_"Come on Jack, we both have court in the morning,"_ Melnick said as she carefully pushed the empty bottle of scotch towards the bartender.

_"Kent, another bottle,"_ McCoy said as he turned to Melnick. _"As for you Dani, I can have that son of a bitch killed. Just say the word and I'll offer one of the contract killers I put away early parole to take out that worthless bastard that broke your heart."_

Melnick knew she was drunk when she heard herself give a deadpanned response of 'okay', followed by the sound of her uncontrollable laughter joining McCoy's. McCoy pulled her into a hug.

_"As for court, I asked Serena to talk to Judge Bradley. You'll be receiving notice in the morning. Briscoe and Green found the murder weapon. We're amending the indictment to include Murder One. That'll buy us both time in the morning to sober up while the paperwork gets done."_

Melnick nearly dropped her glass and McCoy started to chuckle.

_"Damn you Jack,"_ she snapped while she tried unsuccessfully to smack his arm. _"Maybe you deserve to have your clock cleaned by Goodwin, if you pull that kind of stunt with the women you screw in the bedroom, not just the women you screw in the courtroom."_

McCoy pressed his palms against the bar as he tried to catch his breath.

_"If you were as easy in the courtroom as you are tonight, I'd get guilty verdicts without breaking a sweat. If you were as easy to get into bed,"_ he said giving her a dangerous look_,"I'd have given in to lust years ago and probably destroyed a_ _beautiful friendship."_

_"Yeah, that's for sure,"_ she agreed as he opened the new bottle on the bar. _"We'd get through the 'honeymoon' stage in about an hour."_

_"Honeymoon stage?"_

Melnick nodded as she took the glass McCoy offered her.

_"You know, at the beginning of a new relationship you go through that 'everything the other person does it wonderful' phase."_

McCoy laughed as he set his glass down.

_"Oh yeah, I think Denise and I skipped that and went right to the 'anything Jack says is grounds to take his assets' stage."_

Melnick gave him a sideways glance.

_"Come on Jack it's me, Danielle. We both know you'd never skip the 'all I want to do is get her clothes off stage'."_

_"I never bring up your PMS,"_ McCoy sputtered.

_"What's PMS have to do with what we're talking about?"_

_"It's a normal hormonal reaction, as normal as the sex drive."_

_"You're not serious,"_ Melnick gasped.

One look at the scowl his face and Melnick knew the answer to her question.

_"Jack please. You can't compare the way you charm women in to bed with-"_

_"I wouldn't think of asking you to apologize your for normal biological urges, I'm certainly not going to apologize for mine,"_ he said before downing the remainder of his drink._ "Besides, if women didn't make relationships so tedious-"_

_"Hey, wait a minute,"_ Melnick snapped, in a brief moment of clarity._ "Who said women are the ones that make relationships tedious? Where's you evidence, counselor?"_

_"Two divorce decrees and more scowls than I can count when I go to Clancy's on Ladies night,"_ he said smugly.

_"Well, you only have yourself to blame, Jack. If you would just play by the rules and not lead these women to think you're actually going to give them as much attention as you do a case-"_

_"Oh, you're just as bad Danielle,"_ he countered._ "You yourself have turned away rooms full of eligible men because you put your career before your personal life."_

_"It's different for a woman,"_ she said flatly.

McCoy rolled his eyes as he leaned over to refill their glasses. The pair spent the next several minutes heatedly debating Melnick's statement, until McCoy finally reached into the pocket inside his suit jacket and slammed a pad and pen on the bar.

_"Fine,"_ he said shortly. _"Let's save humankind some confusion and outline the code of conduct for relationships between the sexes."_

_"A code of conduct,"_ Melnick repeated as she rubbed her head. _"We can't cover that in one evening."_

_"Then let's start with the basics,"_ McCoy pressed. _"You said something about stages, how many?"_

_"You're serious?"_

_"Completely. Not that **I** plan to delve into the world of marital hell again, but you seem to have kept hope alive all these years. It makes sense, if you want to have a better shot at making the next relationship last for you, to have a plan. In law school we outlined cases in specific stages...facts, holding, etc. Why not relationships?"_

Melnick ran a hand though her hair as she considered her friends words. Her first reaction was one of disbelief and skepticism.

Create a relationship outline with a man who thought the word 'relationship' meant 'paring to share Chinese food and sex with in between court room preparation'? Not a good idea. Yet, as she looked at the face in front of her that was filled with the boyish charm that had won over so many colleagues from both sides of the aisle, Melnick found herself intrigued by the idea.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, as she gave him a knowing grin and flipped open the pad.

_"Let's start with something you understand – passion,"_ Melnick said a McCoy grinned back in triumph.


	3. A Visit From the new DA

"I've got to tell you, "Prescott gasped between bouts of laughter. "This does nothin' to relieve my misgivin's about Brooke becomin' the next Mrs. Jack McCoy. But I will admit, that was quite a story, Danielle."

"I've seen those two together. Trust me. Brooke can handle Jack," Melnick said reassuringly. "I just hope…"

Prescott raised an eyebrow and waited. Melnick ran her tongue over her lips carefully.

"I just hope you can handle their engagement."

Although Prescott immediately shifted his gaze as he reached for his pocket watch, he couldn't quite conceal his surprise.

"I 'pose that was what Jack's phone call to you earlier was about. He's askin' her tonight?"

"Now look at who's put a damper on the evening," she responded regretfully.

"Not at all," he said as he looked back up. " I just figured Jack would wait until he was back on his feet. As long as he makes her happy, their engagement won't be a problem for me."

"Sam, I-"

"Now, Danielle. When I say it's not a problem, it's not a problem. Don't go getting' all upset, darlin'," he said with a trace of humor as he returned the watch to his pocket. "'Sides I have a bigger problem to think about than my soon to be former wife's engagement."

Before Melnick could press him, the waiter arrived and set a silver tray holding the dinner bill, down between them. Both of them reached for the thin white paper, Prescott having the slightest of advantages.

"Now Danielle, what to do think you're doin'," he asked, as he kept the bill well out of her reach. "I invited you to join me tonight. I'd be genuinely hurt if you didn't let me pay for your dinner."

"Listen Sam. I appreciate the gesture but, I know you're financial situation is tenuous at best right now-"

"Oh that," he said with a chuckle. "I'll admit money is a problem, as far as settling the big stuff, like the life insurance. But now that I've had some time to liquidate my assets in Tulsa, I do have some walkin' around money. In fact, I received a check for the carpentry business I sold out there, this week. Managed to pay old Randy off and reimburse Brooke for the other expenses she's been coverin'. Once the house sells, we can pay that last big debt off. So you see, I can well afford you buy a lovely lady, such as yourself, dinner. But I must say, your concern touches my heart."

"Your generosity touches mine," Melnick replied as she watched Prescott shift through his wallet. "So, tell me about this bigger problem."

Prescott smiled bashfully as waited for the waiter to remove the bill. He sighed heavily, as he traced the top of Melnick's right hand.

"If I tell you, you'll think I'm as slick as your friend McCoy," he said looking across the table with puppy dog eyes.

"Well, it's not like we're in a parked car and you're claiming you're out of gas."

"Well, it's close to that," he reluctantly admitted. "I was having such a nice evenin', I lost track of time. It's almost midnight and I haven't even asked you to dance yet."

Melnick smiled with relief.

"That can be easily solved."

"Not so easily. You see, I am still stayin' out in Long Island and the last ferry left and half hour ago."

Melnick laughed softly.

"There is always the Long Island Railroad," she said pointedly.

"True, but the last train leaves in approximately fourteen minutes. So, I'll either have to forfeit a dance with you or have to ask you to join me again for a rain check."

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McCoy held up a rose from the baker's dozen arranged in a vase on Danielle Melnick's coffee table and raised an eyebrow.

"It must have been some date."

"It was," Melnick said placing the flower back in the arrangement that had arrived earlier that morning."So what are you doing at my place, Jack? Shouldn't you and Brooke be down at Tiffany's picking out rings?"

"Becky's in town for the weekend. She and Brooke went out to the beach house to measure the windows for new blinds."

"Really?"

As McCoy explained his daughter's solution to Brooke's housing situation, Melnick nodded while glancing at her watch. After the fourth downward gaze McCoy slipped a hand over the face of the watch.

"Is there someplace you need to be," he asked curiously, as he peered towards the closed bedroom door. "Maybe I should have called before coming-"

"Why start respecting my privacy at this late date," Melnick joked.

"I wanted you to be the first, after Becky to hear the news. I also wanted to hear how your date went with Prescott," McCoy said as he stood."But if this is a bad time…"

"No, don't be silly," she said impatiently as she motioned for him to sit. "I do have something in few hours, but I can always spare some time for you, Jack. So it's official. Brooke agreed to marry you?"

Melnick hadn't seen her friend literally glow since his reconciliation with his daughter. She gave McCoy a hug and listened eagerly as he told her about the events of that morning.

"So, it sound like this might be a long engagement?"

"Can't be helped, "McCoy admitted. "It's going to be at least six months until the divorce is final. Besides, I'd image it'll take even longer to sort out the financial mess Sam's reemergence has created for both of them."

"The way Sam tells it, he should be in a better position to help out, now that he's received his assets from Tulsa."

McCoy stood again and started towards the kitchen.

"Sounds like you two did more than have a quick drink, if the man told you about his finances. I assume you made coffee?"

"Jack, have a seat, "she said as she quickly followed behind him. "I can get you some coffee. You just got out of the hospital, let me wait-"

"I'm not an invalid. I think I can pour a cup of- Danielle?!?"

McCoy's jaw dropped when he saw the pair of breakfast dishes resting on the kitchen counter. He swing around to look accusingly at red faced Melnick.

"Don't start, Jack," she said busing herself with the coffee.

"Oh my God," he groaned as he took the offered cup."I thought this it supposed to be a quick drink, not a quickie."

"Jack," Melnick snapped. "Friendship only goes so far. I didn't lecture you when you and Claire-"

McCoy held a hand up as they sat at the kitchen counter.

"Point taken. Do I get to know anything about what led to this unexpected turn of events?"

Melnick sighed."If you must know, the man missed his train," she said defensively. "If you laugh hard enough to bust your stitches open, you're going to have to crawl to the emergency room."

McCoy bit is tongue to try to hold back evidence of his amusement.

"I want details," he managed to say, just barely keeping a straight face.


	4. Three Strikes and You're Out

When the cab pulled up at Penn Station, Melnick knew something wasn't right. There were squad cars, as well as fire department vehicles, in front of the entrance. She glanced at her watch, shaking her head. She knew the only other station that might have a run to Long Island so late on a weeknight was Grand Central. There was no way Prescott to get across town in time to make that train. She glanced at the man beside her who shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

"Looks like I'll be callin' a hotel after I drop you off. The up side to that is that I can now have that dance with you," he said smiling weakly. "That is, if you aren't ready to call it a night?"

Melnick eyed Prescott carefully. Given her profession, Melnick liked to think of herself as a savvy individual. She common sense told her to call it a night and send the charming Southerner on his way. But, her heart…her heart sent a different message…

Melnick found herself looking up into his green eyed gaze and wishing she were twenty five again. When she was twenty five, she could dance all night and still be ready for court by eight. On this night, it was a quarter to three and she could feel her eyelids starting to fall. Prescott smiled down at her as they swayed in time to the sound of the Sinatra CD coming from her living room.

After spending the better part of an hour trying to get a table at _The Rainbow Room_, Melnick had finally persuaded old school Sam Prescott that, if they really wanted to dance their best bet on a Friday night in Manhattan without reservations, was the terrace of her high rise apartment. Once they had arrived, Prescott purused Melnick's extensive collection of swing and show tunes, finally settling on Sinatra, while Melnick took a bottle of Merlot and some glasses out to her terrace.

Alternately dancing, drinking, and chatting as they picked out stars and planets that glowed in the moonlight, time seemed stand still. Melnick couldn't remember the last time she felt so at ease, so quickly, with a man.

"Danielle Rose, are you still with me," he whispered in her ear.

Melnick hated her middle name. It had always seemed old maidenish in her mind. But the way Prescott ran it together with her first name, with his faint Western Virginia accent, she found herself looking for ways to make him say it.

"I don't know how Brooke can let you go," she said, suddenly aware her internal voice had inadvertantly become audible.

She looked up suddenly and blushed when she realized she'd spoken out loud.

"Maybe I am more tired than I thought. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you probably shouldn't have," he said with a smile. "But, I sure did enjoy hearing it. Almost as much as I've enjoyed your company this evenin'."

Melnick smiled with pleasure as he bent his head down. She gently ran a hand over the back of his neck as his lips met hers. She sensed his kiss would be gentle and warm. He gave her several quick, tender kisses before looking down at her, waiting for her eyes to open, to ask an unspoken question. She sighed as she closed her eyes again, her ears hearing_ Fly Me to the Moon_, her nose smelling _Ralph Lauren_, and her mouth tasting the faint flavor of merlot as he pulled her closer and allowed his lips to linger on hers.

Prescott explored her mouth with extricating slowness that made Melnick dizzy. As their tongues danced with increasing passion, Melnick knew she should step back, break away, and put an end to things before they went too far, to fast. But instead, she pressed closer against him. She could hear their faint moans, as she became aware of the hardness against her thigh.

Reluctantly Prescott broke the kiss, holding her tightly against him for several minutes before stepping back.

"I'm afraid I let myself get carried away, darlin'. I think I'd better be on my way, before I lose the little bit of self control I have left."

Melnick gave him a quick kiss and nodded.

"Never a good idea to be the rebound girl."

Prescott looked taken a back.

"You? The 'rebound girl'? Never," he said firmly. "Danielle Melnick is too much a person in her own rite to even be considered a replacement for someone else."

"Even when that person is –"

Prescott pressed a finger against her lips.

"When I kissed you, darlin', I kissed _you_. I smelled _Chanel Number Five_, not _Shalimar_. You taste like merlot and strawberries, not tequila and lime. I should leave because I want to as much as I want to stay, the last thing I want you tho think is that I planned to get you into bed on our first date. Although, the thought having that privilage is stirring, to say the least."

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Melnick smacked her snickering friend with a dish towel as she placed the last of the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher.

"It's called respect Jack," she said briskly. "Not everyone jumps into bed on the first date."

After listening to Melnick recall the details of her evening with Sam Prescott, McCoy had mixed emotions throughout his friend's revelation. He was glad to see Melnick happy. He knew how much her last break up had taken out of her. It was good to see her interested in someone again. He also knew Prescott's interest in Melnick was asignal the man was ready to begin a life that wouldn't include Brooke.Yet, McCoy couldn't help but feel uneasy about his friend's midnight dance in the moonlight.

Melnick eyed her silent friend critically.

"Jack, don't tell me the idea I actually enjoyed myself has left you cationic."

McCoy bit is tongue and thought better about making a remark about sleeping with the enemy.

"Better watch out Danielle, first you'll be dancing in the moonlite, next he'll have you burning your ACLU card."

"I'm a big girl Jack," she replied as she refilled his coffee cup.

"So where is Mr. Wonderful, may I ask?"

"He went back to Islip to shower and get some fresh clothes. I'm going out there myself at one to watch his niece play softball and see the house," Melnick replied.

McCoy's alarmed expression caused her to frown in puzzlement. Then her eyes widened in understanding as she eyed the front of her friends sweat shirt. Until that point, Melnick had been so preoccupied with thoughts of the night before, she hadn't paid any mind to McCoy's weekend uniform of jeans and a sweatshirt. She stared at the bright gold lettering that read: _St. Anne's __Prep__aratory Academy._

"Oh, no. Jack," she moaned,"tell me I'm wrong."

McCoy shrugged his shoulders.

"If it's any consolation, the boosters club sells a hell of a foot long."

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Melnick, Prescott, McCoy and his daughter looked first at Brooke, then at each other, as they tried to suppress their laughter. The proud aunt was letting out cheers that would have put even the most diehard sports parent to shame, as Lindsay Malinowski made her way towards home plate.

When Lindsay slid into home plate, Brooke jumped into McCoy's arms and planted a kiss on his lips. Melnick turned slightly to check her escort's reaction and found she was meeting his amused gaze.

"I told you to bring ear plugs," he remarked as he leaned close and causally laid his arm on her shoulder. "Mal always did have a healthy set of lungs. If I hadn't already promised Lindsay I'd be here, I would have found a more relaxing way for us to spend the day."

"Are you kidding," Melnick responded. "I think it's great to see young women playing competitive sports. When I was Lindsay's age, it was still pretty much only powder puff leagues for girls."

"Well, I still appreciate your bein' such a good sport about spendin' the afternoon with Jack and Mal. I promise, such kindness won't go unrewarded."

"Danielle," Rebecca McCoy called out. "Brooke and I are going for hot dogs and drinks, wanna come?"

The two men watched a few seconds later, as the trio moved to the concession stand across the field.

"For the record I didn't plan on seein' you two here," Prescott said candidly. "I figured since Mal had planned to stay in the city last night, you two would be in Manhattan all weekend. When Lindsay asked-"

"I'm sure Lindsay is thrilled to have so many fans out to watch her play. That niece of yours has some swing, Prescott."

"Always has," Prescott replied proudly. "As soon as she was walkin she loved runin', throwin'… you should have seen her with her first toy bat. Mal and I ordered her a custom made _Yankee's_ jersey when she was three."

McCoy recalled when his daughter had gone through her 'jock' stage and the way he felt when Rebecca earned her first MVP trophy.

"Danielle tells me you're thinking of returning to the practice of law?"

And so it went. Questions prefaced by a reference to either Brooke or Melnick continued the stream of polite conversation. Finally, Prescott paused and looked McCoy squarely in the eyes.

"Listen, Jack. I doubt the ladies are goin' to give us an opportunity like again... an opportunity to talk man to man."

McCoy raised an eyebrow and waited.

"I assume congratulations are in order?"

"Danielle has a big mouth," McCoy responded. "Brooke planned to tell you herself."

"Don't be so quick to blame Danielle. Wasn't hard to figure out, 'specially listenin' to her end of your phone conversation last night," the other man said offering his hand. "I won't say you'd be my first choice for her, but I'm just her former husband. I'm not her father. You're a lucky man McCoy, just don't forget that."

McCoy took the outstretched hand.

"I'm not the only lucky man here today. It says a lot that you managed to get her to agree to a sports event of any kind. The idea of Danielle even thinking about a hot dog….that woman is more kosher than Rabbi Kaplan at Temple Israel. "

Prescott bowed his head slightly.

"I agree, she's quite a lady. Someone who can definitely keep a man guessin'."

"Someone who isn't a tough as she appears to be," McCoy countered bluntly.

"What makes you think she needs to be?"

"The fact that you're not only in the middle of a divorce we both know you don't want, but the fact you lost your second wife just barely a year ago."

Prescott sighed as he looked McCoy up and down.

"Well now. If this wasn't so ironic, I'd laugh. Jack McCoy lecturing _me_ on relationship boundaries? That really is rich. Tell me Jack, how many subordinates did you involve yourself with before you became District Attorney?"

McCoy's looked downward as he nodded.

"My past isn't in question right now. Yours is, when it could affect Danielle. Don't use her to get through your own pain and then discard her when you're ready to move on. "

"This, coming from a man about to start a third marriage? A third marriage, with a woman that just spent the last five years mourning _me_? Maybe you ought to drop the sanctimony and have a little more faith in Danielle's judgment."

McCoy's mind flashed to a scene that evidenced his friend's nearly fatal ability to lapse in her judgment of people. The scene that involved blood, an ambulance, and an oxygen mask.

"If you know her at all, you know Danielle is overly trusting. Brooke tells me you're a decent man. I have no reason not to believe her. A decent man would know Danielle deserves better than to be used as an emotional crutch."


	5. Long Walk Home

After seeing McCoy's daughter off, Brooke and McCoy walked back from the ferry landing towards McCoy's beach house.

"Becky asked me to tell you to let her know the next Lindsay has a game. I think my daughter is enjoying playing big sister to her future cousin."

"I just hope Becky doesn't feel cheated out of spending some time alone with her Dad," Brooke said as she looked up at him.

"Just the opposite," McCoy said slipping his arm around her shoulder. "After the stabbing at the prison, she was convinced I was a step away from death's door. Now that she's satisfied herself I'll live, she can turn her attention where it belongs. She can work on getting her mother to slow down long enough to go up to Maine for a visit that lasts more than half a day."

"Speaking of slowing down," Brooke said carefully,"don't you think you jumped the gun a little today?"

She smiled at the puzzled look on his face as they waited at the corner for the light to change.

"Jack, I can read you pretty well and Sam…well... I know Sam like the back of my hand. No one had to tell me what went on between the two of you while you were alone. Besides, Danielle approached me, as well."

"Danielle approached you about Sam? What did you tell her?"

"I told her I wished them well and to nail Sam if he starts rubbing the back of his left ear when she asks him a question."

"Rubbing the back of his ear? And that tells you what, exactly?"

Malinowski gave him a knowing grin as she met his curious gaze.

"It tells me the same thing you're suddenly looking down at floor when I ask you a direct question, tells me. I thought Danielle should know Sam's classic tell for when he's about to be less than truthful."

"You know this could be a disaster for both of them," he retorted with an all too framilar scowl.

"That's probably what people say about our relationship," she said playfully. "Besides, they've been out twice. It's not like Sam's asked Danielle to run off to Tulsa with him."

"Yet," McCoy countered irritably.

"Jack, lighten up,"she said as she took his hand. "You're acting like a protective father or a jealous lover."

"A concerned friend would be a more accurate description," he sputtered. " Do you expect me to believe this doesn't bother you at all?"

"Why should it," she asked frankly. "I like Danielle. As for Sam, he's free to be with whomever he chooses. To be honest, seeing him with Danielle helps elevate some of the guilt."

McCoy nodded.

"You're happy, so you'd like to see Sam happy?"

Brooke squeezed his hand as she kissed his cheek.

"Very happy and yes, I'd like to see Sam as happy."

McCoy pulled his key ring out of the front pocket of his jeans. Brooke watched and waited until they were inside the beach house and McCoy had disarmed the security system. Following him into the kitchen she shook her head, as he opened the refrigerator door. After more than a minute, she finally tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump and look back at her in confusion.

"Jack just say it."

McCoy smiled at her, his eyes wide, the picture of innocence.

"What? If you're fine with it, I suppose I can live with it, too."

"You've got to be kidding. I know that oh so innocent face, Jack McCoy," she said impatiently."All you have to do is ask."

Brooke took a seat on one of the stools beside the kitchen countered and looked at him as if she could see right through to his soul.

"Jack. This isn't just about you wanting the best for Danielle," she said bluntly. "I'm surprised you've waited this long to confront me. Although I guess getting shanked by my old friend, Hector Esparza, is quite a distraction."

McCoy leaned against the refrigerator, his eyes on the pale green linoleum. Brooke's intuitiveness was a double edged sword for McCoy. Her ability to see through his indifferent personna was both a comfort, and at moments when he wasn't sure he was ready to share his thoughts, a curse.

"I know you want to hear it."

McCoy thought once more about their parting scene at _Rachel's _the day before the stabbing incident at Sing Sing. It was a scene he'd replayed in his mind more times than he could count. She was right. He did want to hear it. He wanted to know what had tipped the scales that she had seemed to have balanced so carefully since her husband's return. He wanted to know why, after weeks of professing her love for him, she had slept with another man.

"Only if you want to tell me," he said softly.

"It never should have happened. I knew that before…,"she began with a sigh. "That's why you found me with Jake afterwards. I never should have let it happen."

"One look at your face and I knew something wasn't right," he admitted. "What I want to know is…why? Why did it happen that day? I mean, it had been weeks since he had come back. What changed to …"

The questioning look in his eyes made her want to turn away in shame, but Brooke forced herself to hold McCoy's gaze.

"Sam told me about Ellie, his second wife, that morning," she began. "I felt so…I don't know. Betrayed, abandoned, confused…then to find out he lost her... He lost her after losing everything that had meaning for him from his old life. To give everything up and to find happiness again, only to have it snatched away so quickly... God, Jack it was just too sad."

"So, you felt badly for him," he offered in almost a whisper.

"Jack, I wanted to comfort him. I let things go too far. I got caught up in the past – in what we had."

Brooke paused in frustration. She knew she sounded like she was reaching, grasping for answers she couldn't even put into words. Part of her wanted to just beg McCoy's forgiveness and spare them both the probing and prodding. But taking what Brooke perceived as the easy way out not only wasn't her style; it would leave a heavy air of uncertainty over the future if she couldn't dispel any doubts McCoy harbored about her feelings for him.

"Jack. Sam is a big part of my past. That's all he can be now….now that you are in my life. I regret it more than you can know. Have you ever had a weak moment? Done something you knew was a mistake at the time, but you did it anyway?"

McCoy looked away, startled by his own reaction. He immediately understood. He understood more than he could bring himself to admit to her. He remembered the last time he made love to his first wife. The last ditch effort at one more reconciliation. An attempt he knew wouldn't change the inevitable, but he hadn't cared at the time. At the time, all he knew was in order to have any kind of peace later, he had to make one last try at saving the marriage.

Maybe knowing about the last time Brooke had been with Prescott was why he felt so ill at ease with the man wooing Danielle Melnick. McCoy hadn't seen the similarity until Brooke asked the question. A weak moment….

McCoy himself had gone from the shambles of his first marriage to the bed of a friend and colleague who had been more than willing to oblige. But years later, McCoy had to admit, at least to himself, Diana Hawthorne had no idea what she had let her heart in for by taking his assurances that he was over his divorce, at face value.

When Claire Kincaid had proposed offering his former lover the plea bargain of the century, he had been unusually deferential. He wondered if it hadn't been so passive due to his guilt stemming from his knowledge that he had in part used Hawthorne to lessen his own pain over the failure of his marriage.

"Jack, listen," she said as she stood and picked up her purse from the counter. "Maybe I should go and give you a chance to think about … to decide what you can live with and what you can't."

McCoy looked into the blue eyes that were searching his face. Eyes that were clouded and searching for… what? Judgment? Disappointment? Forgiveness?

As she turned to leave, Brooke felt herself pulled back and locked in his arms.

"If you're looking for absolution, I'm afraid you've got the wrong man," he said tenderly. "Only a sanctimonious son of a bitch would think he had the right to judge you."

Before she could reply he kissed her, holding her tightly and pushing aside his concerns, as he tried to only focus only on the joy he felt in holding the woman he loved so deeply.


	6. Dinner at Sam's

Danielle Melnick set her fork aside as she swallowed the last of the beef brisket. Melnick smile approvingly at the man with anxious eyes, who sat across from her.

"I'm impressed. I haven't had brisket that savory since the last Passover dinner my Grandmother made."

Prescott's face lit up with pleasure.

"I was concerned. I haven't made a brisket since the Passover before I left New York."

"Really?"

"Brooke's best friend is Jewish. It used to be a tradition to have Jake over here for Passover supper," he explained. "I became well versed in the traditional foods after a few years. "

Prescott stood, taking a quick glance at the partially open French doors.

"You know, the weather is so nice this evenin' what do you say we have dessert and coffee on the patio?"

Melnick nodded as she finished the last of her wine.

"What can I do to help," she asked as she picked up the dinner plates.

"Now, Danielle," Prescott countered while he took the dishes from her. "I didn't ask you to come all the way to Islip to put you to work. Go make yourself comfortable and I'll join you in a minute."

As she stepped out in the warm breeze, Melnick surveyed the large yard. Lit only by starlight and the dim solar lights that were scattered about the yard, she could still see the care that had been given to the rose brushes that lined the perimeter of the yard.

The large patio housed a well kept set of patio furniture that included a redwood dining set, two chaise loungers that faced the small water way that began at the opposite end of the patio, passed the pool and spa.

"Here you go, darlin'," Prescott said as he handed her one of two plates. "Now, I know this isn't as grand as those fancy desserts at _Twenty-One_ that you're probably used to, but I think you might enjoy it."

Melick grinned as she sampled the pie.

"I haven't had sweet potato pie since I went with Shambala and Judge Ross to Georgia last year for a workshop the Southern Poverty Law Center was giving."

Prescott gave a low whistle as the pair walked to the table.

"Shambala Green…now that's a name I haven't heard in a long while," he said as he pulled out a chair for Melnick. "Hold your thought while I get the café au lait. I want you to tell me whether ole Sham and Ben Stone are still an item."

Momentarily he returned. Eagerly taking a seat next to her, Prescott handed Melnick one of two tall glass mugs and leaned forward.

Melnick laughed as she sipped at the beverage.

"And they say that women are the worst gossips," she said with a laugh. "I'll have you know not only are they together, but they got married, as well. I'm Godmother to their little girl."

"Are you," he exclaimed.

As they moved through dessert, Prescott listened intently as Melnick brought him up to date on the Stones and several other members of the legal and law enforcement professions that they found they had in common.

"…that can't be, Danielle. You mean to tell me they went and made that horse's backside a judge?"

Melnick nodded vigorously as she nibbled at the last bit of pie crust on her plate.

"I'd of thought a federal prosecutor would have counted that appointment as a win."

"Danielle, whether you're on either side of the aisle, everybody loses when the bench gets an extremist of either persuasion sitting on it," Prescott said earnestly.

Melnick sighed as she gave him a knowing nod. She took another glance around the property and shook her head.

"This really is a wonderful place,especially the yard. It's a shame neither you nor Brooke can keep it."

"I agree, we put a lot into this property. Brooke spent every fall and spring keeping those roses in shape. They used to be her pride a joy. Even won a competition here in town one year. As for me, I spent a whole summer gettin' those kitchen cabinets stained and hangin' just right. The we decided to do the stain glasswork ourselves. I can't even begin to tell you how long that took… but ... things change."

"Come on, Sam. Both of you put up a good front. I can understand Brooke not dwelling on thing, especially in front of Jack. But you? You don't have to put on a brave face in front of me. we both know you have regrets about the way things have turned out."

"If I learned anything from last five years in witness protection, I learned not to count on anything but the here and now,"he said as he stood."

With one hand he collected the empty plates, as he used the other to lift her chin.

"Speakin' of the here and now, right now, I'm feelin' anything but regretful, Danielle Rose. It's a privilege just to be enjoyin' another evenin' with you," he said just before placing a lingering kiss on her lips.

Afterwards, Melnick picked up the empty glasses and followed him inside.

"You're obviously still a master that evasion strategy that career prosecutors seem to value," she said smugly.

Prescott gave her an amused glance while turned off the kitchen faucet.

"I can see why you have the reputation you're famous for, young lady. Nothin' gets by you, does it," he said with a sigh. "All right, darlin'. I'll admit, commin' home and findin' myself charged with murder, not to mention gettin' a divorce, isn't what I planned on. It's a little disappointin' but-"

"You're still dodging," Melnick persisted, as he led her back outdoors.

"Can you tell me what good will come of dwellin' on what could have been," he asked bluntly.

Melnick knew she was pushing and why.

"It's never good to deny what you feel," she replied, as they sat on the swing. "You knew while yo were in Tulsa that Brooke and Jack were involved, right? What did you really expect would happen when you came back?"

Prescott leaned back and stretched his limbs while he closed his eyes. After a few minutes he cocked his head, as he looked into her inquiring eyes.

"You're right, pretty lady. I knew," he said thoughtfully."I thought I'd be able to get Mal to listen to reason and convince her to quickly and quietly leave New York. Figured common sense would outweigh anything Jack had to offer. Oh, I knew there'd be hell to pay. I'd of had to have been away a lot longer than five years to forget my wife's temper. But, the marriage was strong when I left…I figured eventually…what I didn't count on the night I came home were Joe Fontana and half the Suffolk County Sherriff's Department bustin' in before I could explain myself."

"And?"

Prescott swore softly as he looked away from the eyes that were compelling and compassionate at the same time.

"I didn't count on Jack bein' more than a pleasant diversion…or Brooke bein' more than that to him."

Melnick nodded sympathically, as she ran a hand over her chin.

"Then why don't you go after her?"

"Danielle, I know when I'm beat. As much as I wanted my old life…includin' my marriage...back I don't want a woman who'd stay with me out of obligation. Remember, I started the divorce, not Mal," he said candidly. "I'd be lyin' to both of us if I said I didn't still care for the woman. I think I always will. But, her heart belongs to Jack now. All I can do is let her go and hope she'll be happy."

Melnick reached for the hand that had been resting on her forearm. She held it tightly as she considered Prescott's words.

She knew he was right. McCoy would never have proposed if he hadn't been deeply in love and truly committed. Melnick had seen her friend through too many broken relationships to think otherwise. Seeing him through his last divorce, she had seen what that attempt at 'til death do us part had cost him. Melnick also knew, no matter how sincere her friend's devotion was to Brooke Prescott, there were no guarantees this marriage would stand the test of time, any better than McCoy's first two marriages did.

"What happens if she's not happy, Sam," Melnick asked quietly. "What happens if they don't make it? Would you want Brooke back under those circumstances, if she asked for another chance?"

"Now, Danielle Rose, I know where you're goin' with this," he said knowingly. "I told you last night, you're nobody's rebound girl. You could never be just a distraction to get a lonely man through a rocky time."

"Sam, we both know if Randy hadn't been intent on playing Cupid, we wouldn't be sitting here now."

"If I hadn't been a defendant in a murder trial at the time, I'd have asked you to coffee that day at the elevator," he said somberly. "Now, if you have misgivings about seein' me, I understand that. I'd be disappointed, but I'd understand."

Melnick leaned back, her shoulders meeting the warmth of the arm that rested behind her.

"I like you Danielle, I like your straight forwardness, I like your humor, and I like your humanity," he continued as he kissed her fingers. "I also am intrigued by the fire that I see when you state your convictions, as well as the fire in your eyes after I kiss you."

Melnick closed her eyes as she rested her head against his shoulder.

She knew her fatal flaw was her desire to see the best in others, to trust too easily. A trait that had nearly cost Melnick her life not so long before. A trait that brought out McCoy's over protective streak on one than more than one occasion.

She wanted Sam Prescott. His warmth, his humor, his openness surprised and interested her. His physical presence stirred her more than she wanted to admit. Her head told her any man in the middle of a divorce was a man to turn and run the opposite way of. But her heart and body reminded her men like Prescott didn't come along often.

She knew chances were good Prescott would go to Albany and the relationship would die a natural death due to the distance. But, he wasn't packing any boxes that night.

"Maybe I should walk you to the train station," he said softly as his hand caressed the side of her neck."It's gettin' late."

Melnick opened her eyes to find his lips just inches from hers, his eyes looking tenderly into hers.

"Are you expecting Brooke back tonight?"

Prescott shook his head and Melnick reached for him. He kissed her as they embraced.

Melnick's inhibitions disappeared as the kiss grew more passionate. She knew taking the next step would be a gamble, but it was a gamble she was willing to take.While she found herself anxious to feel his touch, Melnick remembered his history in that house. Specifically, his history in the master bedroom. As the warm breeze blew through her hair, she thought of an inspiring alternative.

Prescott's lips moved gently over her collar bone, before the pair stood. He pulled her back into an embrace as he struggled to regain his composer.

"Darlin, I understand," he whispered. "I respect your decision, just give me a minute to collect myself and I'll walk you-"

Melnick stepped back and silenced him by beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"Would you find me forward if I suggested a moonlight swim?"


	7. Moonlight and Melnick

Prescott's eyes widened in surprise, as he smiled back at Melnick.

"On the contrary, a moonlight swim sounds like a delightful idea. If you're sure," he said, pausing as his shirt fell to the ground.

"If you're sure, would I be presumptious in thinkin' I should acquire some precautions?"

Melnick shook her head while she carefully ran her hands over his bare chest.

"Cancer scare a few years ago took care of that. Full hysterectomy," she said looking up into the green eyes that were suddenly alert."Not the most romantic tale, but …"

"But a tale I want to hear more about," he said with concern as he ran his hand slowly over her cheek.

She nodded as she looked up into his eyes.

"After."

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"You are a wicked woman, Danielle Rose Melnick," Prescott said with amusement.

Prescott joined Melnick on the chase lounger, slipping a throw blanket over his lover, as he held her against him.

"I bet you say that about all female defense attorneys," Melnick responded glibly.

"Just the ones I've make love with," he countered with a wink.

"Are you saying I'm your first defense attorney?"

"That I am. But make no mistake darlin', it's not only your ACLU card that makes bein' with you well beyond the usual or the expected," he said before kissing her neck.

"You better save some of that sweet talk for those ladies upstate," she said as she stifled a yawn.

Prescott gave her a puzzled look and thought about pressing her for the meaning behind her statement. Although they had only spent a breif amount of time together, he knew Danielle Melnick wasn't the kind of woman who took sex lightly or chose her lovers carelessly. He knew her well enough to know her remark held some sort of question in it. A question for whatever reason, she was unable to come out and ask directly.

Prescott himself was never one to treat romantic attachments causally. As far as sexual relationships went, at fifty three, he could still count the number of women he'd slept with on his hands and have a finger or two left over. For him to move as quickly as he had with Melnick was entirely against his nature.

The last thing he wanted was to do was use Melnick in any way, least of all, to get over the events leading to his divorce. When she had suggested the moonlight swim, he had been more than a little flattered. Prescott had been drawn to the spirited attorney from the onset. Melnick's natural combination of passion, conviction, and compassion was somehting he found irresistably refreshing.

"Sweetheart, you're fadin' fast. Maybe it's time to head upstairs," he said as he wrapped the throw around her and stood. "I truly hope you're plannin' to stay with me tonight?"

Melnick stood as well, nodded as she realized how sleepy she really was. She let Prescott carry her up the stairs, silently relieved when they moved past the master bedroom to the end of the hall.

Melnick watched as Prescott pulled the covers over her, before curling up beside her in the double bed.

"Danielle Rose..."

"Humm?"

Prescott chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I just enjoy sayin' your name…a beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he said softly.

"Sam…"

"Yes, sweet Danielle Rose?"

"How long before you go to Albany?"

"Albany," he repeated. "Oh, the job… They want an answer by the end of the month…damn. Oh, Danielle, now I understand…"

Prescott held her close while he pondered his dilemma. Melnick opened her eyes when the silence continued. She could see the apprehension in his face.

"Listen Sam. We're both grown ups. Don't look so miserable," she said with false optimism. "Long distance romances-"

"Rarely last," he said flatly.

Prescott felt like a heel…like the kind of man he had accused Jack McCoy of being. When Albany called he had all but accepted the job on the spot. With bills to be paid, a marriage in ruins, a house to be sold, Prescott felt like a drowning man who had had a life preserver thrown towards him when the offer to return to the states attorney's office came.

As he watched Melnick's eyes close, he felt his regret deepen. He knew it was far too soon to talk about or even think about love and the things that went along with it. But, he also knew the joy he felt in the short time they had spent together. Joy that was a much needed contrast to everything else he'd fleet since his return to New York.

When the Albany offer came, he hadn't counted on there being a Danielle Melnick to consider.

"I don't want to go," he heard himself say.

Melnick shifted next to him. The sleeping woman beside Prescott, instinctively seeking out the warmth of his body.

Prescott glanced around the room, his eyes falling on the window that looked out across back yard. He thought about the evening and many other evenings from years before. His thoughts moved to the hey days of his career and what that career had cost him. He looked back down at the woman sleeping beside him and was reminded of the two other women he had loved and had all ready lost.

"I didn't want to go last time," he said softly, as he kissed Melnick's forehead. "This time, I'm not gonna go."


	8. Sam's Decision

Brooke could hear the music before she closed the car door. When she entered the house she found her soon to be ex husband singing along with Barry Manilow as he loaded the dishwasher.

_Manilow. Manilow the morning after dinner with Danielle Melnick,_ Brooke thought smugly._ Someone not only got lucky, someone fell, and fell hard._

"_After I've had my last cigarette... when the night is as black as the nights goin' to get... well I'm still wild awake cause I still can't forget I was a fool, to let you go...and after I've close the bar with the boys... though I can't stand the drinks and I can't stand the noise...when I know I'll be back cause there's no other choice I know I was a fool, to let you go_. "

Brooke tapped in him on the shoulder, as she took the dish out of his hand and sang along with him, her hips moving to the blues beat.

"_I was a fool, to think that I could sleep a wink...in this big and deep bed by myself and I was a fool to wait, until it was too late to tell you just how I felt_," they continue, embellishing the lyrics, grinning back at one another, as Prescott took her in his arms and lead her in a hasty two step_."…and after I've been with somebody new and she knows what to say...ah but not what to do... then I know what I've lost and I know it's so true no I was a fool, to let you go and after I've been with somebody new and she knows what to say ah but not what to do then I know what I've lost and I know it's so true when I seen what It caused and what I'm going through I know I was a fool I was a fool to let you go!"_

"Someone must have had a hot date last night," she said as she watched him head towards the living room.

"Now Mal, you of all people know, I don't kiss and tell," Prescott retorted as he turned the sound system off.

"Come on Sam," she persisted as they returned to the kitchen. "I didn't ask you if you got lucky. I asked you if you had a good time."

"Yes, I had a good time," he said deadpanned.

Brooke scanned the contents of the open dishwasher and turned to open the refrigerator. She nodded at its contents and turned back to face him.

"I don't even have to ask the other question. Brisket, sweet potato pie," she said mockingly, as she looked around the room."Gee, maybe I should leave…you pulled all the stops out…I'll bet Danielle hasn't had a chance to re cooperate, much less get dressed-"

"Have your fun, missy," he said starting the dishwasher. "I'm not askin' you for all the sorted details of your evenin' with Jack, so don't expect-"

"Ah, so there _are_ sorted details involved," she said triumphantly.

Prescott playfully smacked her arm with a dishtowel before sitting at the dining room table.

"Did you listen to your voice mail this morning," he demanded.

"That's why I'm here," she said dutifully as she sat across from him. "You said you wanted to discuss the settlement? Are you finally willing to agree to change the grounds to irreconcilable dif-"

"The grounds are non negotiable," he said seriously. "Now, darlin' it's not that I want to fight you. The reality is if we stick with desertion, it makes financial sense."

"But-"

Prescott held hand up.

"Hear me out, honey. The grounds aren't the reason I called you. It's the house."

"The house? Sam," she explained, "If you think dropping the selling price will help to sell it faster-"

Prescott sighed as he shook his head.

"It's not the price I'm concerned with. I'm having second thoughts about selling the house, Brooke."

Brooke stared across the table, her eyes blinking, while she processed his statement.

"Wow the carpentry business must be more lucrative than I was aware of," she said at last as she leaned back. "I didn't realize you had hundreds of thousands of dollars at your disposal."

"Sarcasm aside, this house means too much to both of us to just let it go without a fight."

"I don't believe this," she said tightly. "Do you think I want to sell it? God Sam, have you done the math? The only way we could hold on to it is if we took out a loan against the equity and we stayed together to pay it off. Even if they raise your salary when you go to Albany-"

"I'm not leavin'."

Brooke's jaw hung open as frustrated tears moistened her eyes.

"Really? How exactly do you plan to hold onto the house without a job?"

"Albany wasn't the only offer I received," he said defensively. "Honey, I'm not doin' this to make things harder-"

"I _know_ why you're doing this," Brooke said sharply, hating what she heard as the words fell out of her mouth, yet too stunned to restrain herself. "Danielle must be thrilled."

"I told you I wasn't going to discuss-"

"Oh for God's sake _fine_," she snapped as she moved to the kitchen. "So, you're staying here. In Islip. In this house. In _my_ house. A house that I should have sold... would have sold... if I hadn't been so desperate to hold on to anything connected to our life together. The one thing I thought I'd have no matter what …even after I lost…"

Prescott joined her by the kitchen window, reaching for her as her words were chocked back by her tears.

"Honey, I didn't mean to-," he began as he turned her to hold her.

"No," she said pushing him away. "I don't want to hear it… don't want to hear how you didn't mean to hurt me…that you did what was best for both of us…"

"Mal, please-"

Brooke turned away and held the edge of the kitchen sink, trying to fight the feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach. She knew how unreasonable and petty she sounded, but she couldn't stop herself. It was like a dam had broke inside of her. After everything that had gone on in the last few months, she had enough: Enough of holding back. Enough of the guilt. Enough of accepting things that were unacceptable.

Brooke opened her mouth to blast her husband when she heard her cell phone ring.

"Damn it," she snapped as she moved to pick up the purse that she had dropped on the kitchen island.

"Let it ring."

"_I_ have a job, remember? I have trial starting tomorrow, it could be Jake. God, why in hell am I explaining myself to _you_," she said flipping the phone open without looking the caller ID. "What?"

The voice on the other end hesitated, the caller unsure whether he had dialed the right number.

"Brooke, it's Jack."

_Oh great,_ she thought upon hearing his voice. _Just what I need more macho bullshit…__fro__m a man that already thinks I'm a slut_…

_"_Listen I'm in the middle of something here…No, I'm not but I will be…Jack, don't …why don't you save the rescuing for Danielle or -…damn it Jack, I can't do this now," she said as she slammed the phone back down.

"Brooke you need to get a hold of yourself," Prescott said stubbornly. "I know this is a shock, but-"

"You know _NOTHING_," she screamed as she cleared the island of its contents in one swift motion, causing Prescott to instinctively step back. "We had a _LIFE_… a life you threw away as easily as I just cleared this counter."

"They would have killed us both if I stayed," he said with equal force as he grabbed her by the arms. "Why can't you see that?"

"Maybe I would have been happier dead," she countered as she struggled to be free. "Why can't you see_ that_?"

Stunned by her words, Prescott let her slip away from him. He watched as she poured tequila into a glass before steadying herself against the kitchen counter.

"You can't mean that," he said quietly.

Brooke sipped at the liquor, as she wiped her eyes and nose with a paper towel.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she focused on her breathing. "We were talking about the settlement, not-"

"To hell with the settlement. Obviously there's more to this than the settlement."

Brooke closed her eyes, the combination of emotion and liquor making her suddenly weary. Prescott could see her hands were still trembling as he looked at the glass in her hands.

"Come on," he said as he guided her to the sofa in the living room. "I knew you were holding back, but I truly didn't think … I know you want a life with Jack…I didn't expect you to still feel so strongly about our life together."

"The house was a big part of that life."

Prescott could see that effort she was making to appear calm. A facade that he knew was covering more than any apprehension his Brooke had about selling the house.

"So, tell me about your plans. Where are you getting this wind fall to hold on to the house?"

"I plan to borrow against what's left of my retirement," he replied. "Even with the monthly pay outs over the last several years, there's a good chunk of money left-"

"I'd forgotten about your retirement," she said, suddenly alert. "I'll have to check the settlement again and make sure there's a provision for reimbursement-"

"Mal, stop it," he said sharply. "I don't expect you to account for every nickel you spent in the last five years. I sure as hell don't expect you to pay any of it back."

"Sam you're fifty three years old. It's not like you have another twenty or thirty years to rebuild your retirement."

"You can't take care of all of us, Mal," he said as he took the glass out of her hand.

"I'm not –"

"Every time we try to work out the settlement to take on more than you should. Damn it honey, I'm the one that created the financial mess by faking my death. Let me be the one to clean it up."

Brooke sighed as she curled up against the sofa, bringing her knees and arms together. Prescott bit his lips, remembering the last time she looked like that...the evening after he had made love to her for the last time.

"Brooke, you can't keep holdin' everything inside. The last few months, you've dealt with more than anyone should have to, You need to get some help."


	9. Sorting Things Out

"Now, darlin' I think I can manage unpackin' a few old boxes of books," Sam Prescott said as Danielle Melnick watched him wheel in the last of his boxes, via hand cart.

The pair entered the spare bedroom of Melnick's apartment and began stacking the boxes against the wall.

"Darlin' I can't tell you how much I appreciate you lettin' me store some things here until the house situation is settled."

"Sam, you've been here six out of seven nights every week for the last month. It just doesn't make sense for you to have to run back and forth to Islip to get a book, or a CD, much less a change of clothes," she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Besides, once you start consulting for Amnesty International I doubt I'll see much of you, at least for awhile, given all the workshops and conferences you'll be involved in."

Prescott sat beside her as he kissed her lightly on the forehead and sat down on the bed beside her.

"Now, whose fault is that, pretty lady," he teasingly chided her. "It was your friend Judge Ross that mentioned that they were in need of temporary counsel. I swear, you're gonna turn me into a bleedin' heart if I don't watch myself around you, girl."

Melnick smiled as he pulled her to him.

"Maybe once you give up your membership in the New York Prosecutors Association, I'll be able to count you as one of us bleeding hearts," she teased as he kissed her lips.

Melnick leaned back, enjoying the feel of his body on top of hers, as Prescott continued to kiss her. After becoming lovers, any reservations she'd had about opening her heart to Prescott had been forgotten. Although she knew her trial schedule and the demands of his new job would limit their time together, she was proud of the choice he'd made to reject the numerous offers he'd received to return to criminal law and accept a position with less prestige to do something they both felt strongly about.

She opened her eyes as Prescott ran his fingers over the buttons on her suit jacket. He felt her gaze on him and looked at her with amusement.

"Maybe I better control my other appetites until you assure me you didn't skip lunch again."

"I'll have you know I not only had lunch, but I was treated to a feast at _Gino's _this afternoon."

"Were you now," he said as he thoughtfully unclasped the barrette from her hair. "Let's see…Cutter takes you to _Scott's _when he wants to deal. Rubirosa_ you _usually treat, since she's one of the new kids downn town. _Gino's_?That's got to mean lunch with Jack McCoy, himself."

"You're too smart for your own good," she replied as he brushed the dark strands away from her face. "Jack sends his regards."

Prescott gave a hearty laugh as he rested his head against the headboard while he looked down at Melnick.

"Oh I'm sure McCoy sends me_ somethin'_….just not 'regards'. "

Melnick sighed as she rested her head on his chest. She knew the settlement negotiations had stalled a few weeks before. With the house sitting in limbo, the principals making an effort to avoid each other except in the presence of counsel, she and Jack McCoy had found themselves in a precarious position.

As they dined that afternoon, both had made a conscious effort to avoid discussion of their lovers and focus on the professional matter at hand. Thanks to both of their efforts, lunch had gone smoothly, until they were half way through the chocolate torte they had agreed to share.

"Murder two minimum time, is a gift and you know it, Danielle," McCoy said as he took another bite of his dessert.

"A gift delivered by the DA himself," Melnick added knowingly. "That alone tells me you don't think Cutter can pull off a guilty verdict."

"What that should tell you, is I miss bantering with an old friend," he said with amusement. "You know once Mike puts Green and the M.E. on the stand, it's over. There won't be another offer."

"You know what, Jack? I think I'll take my chances with the jury, but don't let that stop you from enjoying your dessert."

"You know nothing stops me from enjoy a chocolate torte, Danielle," he said as he savored the last bite.

Melnick smiled back, once again noticing the dark circles under the weary eyes of her friend. Melnick had noticed the deepening of the crow's feet and laugh lines on his face when she first joined him. As lunch had progressed she caught him stifling yawns and gazing off into space more than a few times.

"Migraines getting worse, Jack?"

"I swear my head hurts more with _this_ divorce, than my last one," he said with a sigh.

Melnick met McCoy's embarrassed gaze.

"Danielle, if you're uncomfortable answering this I'll understand... but…has Prescott given you any indication where things stand with the settlement?"

"I make a point of not asking those kinds of questions, Jack," she shrewdly. "It makes lunching with you much less complicated."

McCoy chuckled as he reached for the bill.

"Well, at the risk of throwing a wrench in that plan, if Sam does keep the house, do you really see yourself living with him in it?"

"Jack, it's way too soon for either of us to-"

"Danielle, please," he countered impatiently. "I know you well enough to know you don't jump in this deep, this fast unless you're committed. If things continue as they have, would you be able to start a life with Prescott in the house he and Brooke built their life in?"

Melnick wanted to say she hadn't thought about it, but that would have been a lie. When Prescott told her of his desire to reclaim what he could of his past in Islip, she had been surprised, but supportive. Selfishly, she knew Prescott living in Islip made the chances of their relationship continuing much stronger, than if he had pursued a move to Albany. As she learned more about the care he had put into the house, she genuinely understood why holding onto the property would be important to him.

"Jack, if and I mean _if_, Sam asked me to start a life with him I'd do it wherever he asked me to."

McCoy nearly dropped his wallet. His eyes widened as a skeptical smirk formed on his lips.

"You can't be serious. Obviously, we need to add another phase to our relationships outline – the 'she's lost her mind' stage."

"I thought we covered that with the lust stage," she shot back. "No wait, that's the stage where_ you_ lose your mind."

"Fine. I concede to having momentary lapses at the start of a relationship," he said gruffly. "But you don't seriously mean to say-"

"Listen, Jack. I'm not a kid anymore," Melnick said seriously. "I put the first half of my life into my career. I put off having children until it wasn't an option anymore. Remember, I almost died a few years ago. My practice is my life's blood, but if a commute from Long Island was the only road block to a marriage with a good man who loved me, it wouldn't be the deal breaker it seems to be for you."

"So what it all boils down to is having a man is still the bottom line. Even for a feminist dynamo like you – I don't buy it."

"I said location wasn't a priority. Would I be thrilled to live in the shadow of his first marriage? No. But I wouldn't let that shadow blind me to what we could have,"Melnick was bluntly. "Maybe you shouldn't either."

McCoy's mind fluttered to memories of the start of his second marriage. An ill timed event, doomed from the start by his own failure to resolve his grief and guilt over losing Claire Kincaid.

"Let me remind you, I've done this more than once. I know what that house means to Brooke. I also know the best way to kill a marriage is to drag in baggage from the past."

"Maybe that's the problem, Jack. You_ have_ been married before," Melnick said sympatically. "Both those marriages ended in divorce. Brooke thought her marriage ended with death. When she found out it didn't…have you ever thought maybe this divorce is forcing her to relive the grief process…to feel like she's losing her marriage all over again?"

McCoy leaned back as his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"So you're the reason Liz Olivet wasn't free for lunch yesterday."

It took Melnick a few seconds to see the significance in McCoy remark. Prescott had mentioned his soon to be ex had started therapy, but he had neglected to mention where and with whom. Melnick squeezed the hand that rested across the table.

"Why not just _ask_ Brooke how therapy is going, instead of talking to her shrink?"

McCoy answered her with a bewildered gaze.

"The only reason I know she's seeing Liz is because I answered Brooke's cell phone when the receptionist called to confirm her last appointment. You don't even want to know the hell I caught for that."

"If it makes you feel any better, you didn't miss much," Melnick admitted. "You know what a stickler Liz is about doctor / patient confidentiality. All she would do is talk in generalities about what people in Sam and Brooke's situations were likely to feel."

"Great," he said with resignation. "I guess I have no choice."

"Jack, what do you have in mind," Melnick asked warily.

"What I always have in mind. The search for the truth," said as he stood. "A search that involves a discussion with a man who has more insight into Brooke than I seem to have these days."

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"Elizabeth, I really hate to waste your time," Brooke said apologetically.

"What makes you think seeing you is a waste of my time?"

Brooke smiled at the ease at which Liz Olivet began the session. Brooke knew the woman to be a compassionate and caring individual from her dealings with the doctor at various social functions in the time she had spent with Jack McCoy. She also knew Liz Olivet had a reputation as one of the most successful psychologists in the region, in large part due to the ease she was able to instill in her patients.

"It's a waste of time because you know the only reason I'm here is because Sam threatened to tell Jack about that stupid remark I made. The son of a bitch has the nerve to blackmail me into therapy and he wonders where all this hostility is coming from."

"Sounds like you two still have quite a bond," Olivet offered, as she sat back.

"Bond isn't the word I'd use," she said holding up a hand, "and before you ask, the word I'd use would be tie, as in knot, as in bound, as in bound and gagged by a controlling son of a bitch that as no clue … no_ fucking_ clue…"

Oilvet kept her face impassive as Brooke's voice trailed off, her thought left unfinished. This was their fourth session and the open anger was a positive change from the usual quiet denial Brooke had exhibited the other three sessions. The last session Olivet had worked especially hard to invoke a response. She finally scored a victory forty minutes into the fifty minutes session when Brooke had broken down and admitted to Olivet her confusion during the last several months.

Confusion that stemmed from not only her husband's sudden return, but a weak moment that led her back to bed with her husband. An event that only served to create more unanswered questions.

Brooke looked back at the woman calmly sitting across from her and sighed. She knew from her own dealings with the psychologists on call in her office the subtle techniques used to get a patient to reveal more than they intended.

"Look, I know I sound like a raving lunatic… which is why I don't need to sit here and open everything up even more. "

"Brooke, have you given any thought to what we talked about last week?"

"You mean the idea that all of this frustration is basically a way to cope with losing the marriage a second time? I suppose it makes sense… I mean, I agree Sam's return has been a mixed blessing… but the first time I thought I'd been widowed. This time should be easier, shouldn't it?"

"How so?"

"Well, first of all no one is dead," she said sardonically. "Also, I want this divorce. I want to be with Jack. That was something I was sure of almost immediately."

Olivet nodded as she wrote on the pad before her.

"But you didn't initiate the divorce did you?"

"I thought it would be insensitive to serve Sam with divorce papers in part 65 during his murder trial,"Brooke said drily.

"How did you feel when Sam had you served instead?"

Olivet could tell by the way the hands on Brooke's lap tightened, that she had hit a nerve.

"I'm a prosecutor, Liz. You know what control freaks we are," she said defensively. "I didn't like being broadsided but hey, the man did it five years ago, why should I have expected anything less?"

Brooke shifted uncomfortably. She could hear how pathetic she sounded and she hated it. She hated it even more, knowing Prescott had maneuvered her into a situation where she was forced to reveal thoughts she would have never otherwise admitted having.

"So, you're saying Sam served you to what, to take control after your interlude; to punish you for rejecting him?"

_God I hate this_, she thought as she looked down at the floor…this _is worse than when I cross exam a child rapist...Of course I feel punished…I deserve to be punished after…_

"Brooke?"

"I'm not proud of what I did or said, doctor. I'm even less proud to be telling someone about it that has known Jack for most of his professional life."

"Then why did you call me," Olivet asked as she leaned forward.

Her tone was caring, not judging. Her manner interested, but not cold.

Brooke relaxed her hands as she nodded.

"Now, that's an easy question, Liz. No way do I want to have it getting around my office that I'm back in therapy. Went through that when I lost Sam. No, seeing someone in Islip or the surrounding communities isn't an option. Seeing a therapist in Manhattan…getting in as new patient can take months, so I thought of you. I thought you might be kind enough to work me into your schedule, given you're relationship with Jack."

"So your professional reputation is more important to you than your reputation with your fiancée's friends and colleagues?"

_God damn it…it's like a mine field,_ Brooke thought as she shot Olivet an exasperated glare._ Screw it. I'm a prosecutor. Two can play this game_…

"My career is as important to me as Jack's is to him. Given that this conversation_ is_ protected by privilege-"

"Brooke, I posed that question badly," Olivet said with a reassuring smile. "What I meant was, you took an emotional risk coming to someone that knows Jack. You're more inclined to take such a risk personally, rather than professionally, would that be an accurate statement?"

"I suppose so."

"Where do you feel you have control in your life these days?"

Brooke pondered the question, knowing where Olivet was leading her, but unsure as to why.

"At work- professionally- and yes, I felt that way after Sam die, I mean left."

"Anywhere else?"

"Anywhere else...that I feel like I have control? Honestly, control isn't a priority right now. Just getting through the day…getting through the part of my day that doesn't involve work… keeping it together with Jack, which I haven't done such a great job of lately…trying to get this divorce settled, as well as where the hell I'm going to live…what I'm going to call myself..."

"Divorce can be more about a loss of identity than even losing a spouse, can't it?"

"When I thought I'd been widowed, it was all about identity, "Brooke said thoughtfully. "I started signing things 'Mrs. Sam Prescott' just because I wanted to see his name… I must have done that, gosh, for the first two years? Now…now I don't know how the hell I should sign things. I look at the name plate on my desk and it's like that person doesn't exist anymore."


	10. Drinks with Jack, Sam, & Jake

Jack McCoy scanned the men's club for a familiar face. Although it was only seven forty five, the main bar of_ The Townhouse _was beginning to fill up. Many of the patrons, were no doubt waiting for the live music that would begin in another hour. McCoy headed for an empty table near the back of the room, as he removed his fedora and all weater jacket.

The table appealed to him for two reasons: First, it was far enough away from the hubbub of the room to have a conversation without shouting. Second, he was less likely to continue to get the appraising glances he felt on him as he crossed the room.

"May I see your membership card, sir," the waiter asked after taking his order for a Dewar's rocks.

"Randall, Mr. McCoy is my guest," Jake Cohen said as he took the seat across from McCoy.

"Your usual, sir," the young man asked.

Cohen nodded as he set his trench coat alongside McCoy's jacket on the chair between them. After the waiter departed, the two men looked at one another, each uncertain how to begin.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Jake," McCoy said at last, as he offered his hand. "After the way I behaved the last time I saw you, I wasn't sure you'd come."

The younger man accepted McCoy's hand with a relieved smile.

"You were out of line, but that still didn't give me the right to hit you. I want you to know Brooke gave me hell for it, too. Told me she could fight her own battles and that if I did it again, _she'd_ be the one that got charged with assault with intent. I know this place isn't exactly your cup of tea, but I have plans later this evening and-"

"This is fine," McCoy said as the waiter returned with their drinks. "You came in all the way from Long Island."

"I was glad to do it," Cohen said as he drank a good portion of his vodka tonic. "I'd been meaning to call you all week."

"Why is that?"

"Listen Jack," Cohen said leaning across the table. "You know I was delighted when you and Brooke got together. In fact, I pushed you two together more than once. Maybe that's why I feel responsible for some of the hell she's going through right now."

"Jake, I asked her to marry me. Not once, but several times," McCoy said earnestly. "What I said to her was unforgiveable that day at the bakery, but I've tried to let her know how much I love her. She just won't let her guard down enough to let me in."

Cohen nodded in agreement.

"She hasn't been herself at work, as well. Listen, Jack. Brooke has a tendency to want to take on the world – an asset as an ADA – a huge liability personally. Right now, she can't get her bearings…blames herself for things that well... you and Sam should be men enough to accept some responsibility for."

McCoy raised his eyebrows as he bit back a reply. He hadn't seen Jake Cohen since the day McCoy realized Brooke had slept with Prescott. While he regretted the deliberately cruel way he'd treated Brooke, Cohen's words were the last thing he had expected to hear.

"Jake, I _forgave_ her.I want to marry her. What else-"

"What makes you think she _needs_ to be forgiven? My God Jack, she slept with her_ husband_. She slept with him and called out for _you. _It's not your forgiveness she needs, it's her own."

McCoy stared at Cohen in disbelief and the younger man nodded in conformation.

"You heard me correctly. Then you basically call her a whore and Sam is just as bad. He gets her into bed after she makes her feelings about you clear and makes her feel like trash for it afterwards. I swear Jack, neither one of you deserve her."

If it were anyone but Cohen, McCoy would have said to hell with it and left without another word. But, the usually smiling eyes weren't smiling; the usually warm smile was an unbending line of disapproval. It struck McCoy what a shame it was Cohen wouldn't be a parent. His natural protectiveness towards those he loved made him a natural.

"Jake, everyone's been on edge. That doesn't excuse anything, but-"

"Listen Jack, I didn't come here to tell you what a son of a bitch you've been, just to prove I can. I came here because I think you _do_ love Brooke. I think Sam does, as well. But, neither of you are hearing what she can't find the words to say."

"And what might that be?"

McCoy looked up and accusingly back at Cohen. Sam Prescott shook his head when he recognized the man whose back had been to him.

"Damn it Jake, call me when you want to do this privately," Prescott said as he turned to leave.

"Sit your ass down in that chair, before I do it for you Sam," Cohen said with uncharacteristic force, as he blocked Prescott's way.

"You know Jake, there _is_ a limit to-," McCoy began as Prescott grudgingly added his coat to the pile.

"There sure as hell is Jack and I'm here to tell you you're both pretty close to it."

Cohen paused as the waiter returned. After ordering a new round for the group, Cohen looked at the two men with contempt.

"I hope you're proud of yourself Sam. The woman that carried your child is back in therapy and all you seem to give a damn about is taking that house from her and blackmailing her into submission. A situation that is going to end, right now," Cohen said turning to McCoy. "For your information Jack, when Sam faked his death, Brooke miscarried shortly afterwards. After she lost the baby, she fell into a major depression-"

"Jake, I am well aware of Brooke's state of mind after Sam-"

"What you're not aware of is, she swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills before she finally hit bottom. She damn near died. When she got upset with 'Mr. Concerned Husband' here, she made the mistake of alluding to that fact and Sam's holding it over her head to get her to go to see your friend Dr. Olivet."

Cohen paused as he checked faces of each man to be sure he was making an impression. Satisfied with the looks holding a combination of shame and horror, he continued.

"For the record, save the blackmail for drug lords and the Russian Mafia,Sam," Cohen said with disgust. "Fucking piece of work… after I belted Jack, I should have gone to your place and knocked you on your ass."

"Well, if that's how you feel," Prescott said as he stood."I can oblige you – right here - right now."

"Fine by me," Cohen said as he set his drink down and began to stand.

"Oh this is great, three officers of the court in a public brawl," McCoy snapped. "Both of you just save for when you're not in my jurisdiction and sit down."

"Jack I don't-"

"Damn it Sam, you know Danielle will have both our asses if you don't sit yours down and relax."

The three men sat in silence as they alternately glared and drank during the course of the next several minutes.

"Why _exactly_ are we here Jake," Prescott grumbled as he motioned to the waiter for another beer.

"We are here because you need to be told a few more things Brooke neglected to tell you when you breezed back in to her life."

"If you mean things like the fact I'm a fucking son of a bitch that doesn't have a fucking clue-"

'No, apparently she already covered that. I mean things like the fact it took Brooke five years to finally clean out your study. That she used to sleep in your desk chair with a bottle of tequila and a tin of your pipe tobacco in her lap. Like the fact she damn near bled to death when she miscarried two weeks after you left her. Like the fact that she can't stand herself for hurting you the way she did that morning she slept with you."

The two other men looked across the table at each other, then down at their drinks.

"And _you_, "Cohen said turning his attention to McCoy. "You think marrying her when she doesn't know up from down is what she needs. No wonder this is going to be your third time around."

"No one ever claimed I was perfect-, "McCoy retorted.

"Then admit that to her and stop trying to fix her with sex and the pressure of starting a new life when she hasn't had a chance to let go of her old one," Cohen snapped. "Now, what I've said is just the tip of the iceberg. If either of you need more evidence for the ass like behavior you've exhibited, I can continue, but I think I've made my point?"

Cohen glared in turn at both men before picking up his coat.

"I trust that not only will I _not_ have to do this again anytime soon, but that one or both of you will pick up the tab, since I have a dinner date I'm all ready late for."

The pair watched as Cohen stood and moved towards the doorway.

"Jake always did have a flare for the dramatic," Prescott observed as the waiter returned with his beer. "Jack, can I buy you another?"

McCoy nodded as he drained his glass.

"He's right about the study," McCoy said somberly. "I helped her move the desk out, not even six months ago. The tin of pipe tobacco was sitting front and center on it, along with a picture of both of you form your wedding."

Prescott's eyes softened as he sighed.

"Mal was always so strong…so sure of herself…damn it, I never expected…"

McCoy nodded as the waiter set their drinks down. He understood Prescott's dismay all too well. He remembered the various times he'd watched her under duress. Whether cross examining a witness, undergoing cross examination herself, or even having to shoot another human being to protect the man she loved, McCoy had admired Brooke's ability to handle whatever came at her. The woman Cohen had described seemed like a stranger.

"That house really does hold a lot of memories for both of us," Prescott said at last. "I never meant to give Mal the impression I wanted to take it from her; it just seemed right that one of us should try to hold on to it. I also assumed you wouldn't want to live in what would appear to be my shadow, even if Mal could find away to hold onto the house herself."

"I'll admit, it was a lot easier to consider a move to Islip when you were only a memory," McCoy replied, as he thought of Melnick's words from hours before. "But now…it's not a deal breaker. I have no intention losing Brooke over a house or anything else."


	11. A Day at the Beach

Brooke Prescott picked up the ringing cell phone with one hand, while the other continued to leisurely scrawl her ballpoint pen over the yellow legal pad.

"Prescott," she said wearily as she glanced down at her handiwork.

Over lapping the usual items on her Saturday morning 'To do List' were a series of handwritten names that had been carefully written and lined out starting with 'Brooke McCoy' that ran parallel to two lists that were headed 'debts' and 'credits'.

"McCoy," the deep voice on the other end replied with amusement. "Have you finished your closing yet?"

Brooke pressed the speaker button, as she laid the phone down the desk. She chuckled as she began to write the first name on the list once more, while she glanced out the window of her study.

"I thought you only checked up on ADA's that had cases on your side of the bridge," she replied.

"Usually that's the case, but since most of my ADA's have either turned off their phones or haven't finished jury selection, I thought I'd come out to Islip and harass you today."

"You mean you're not spending the day at One Hogan Place," she asked, mildly surprised.

In the last several weeks, both McCoy and Brooke had spent the majority of their weekends in their offices, on the pretense of having to catch up on paperwork or trial preparations. That particular morning was the first morning Brooke could remember staying away from the office. Her change in routine due in large part to the fact that during the week, her soon to be ex husband had all but moved out of the house, ending the tension filled exchanges that increased in volume and length after Prescott had blackmailed her into seeing Liz Olivet.

"I'm not in Manhattan," he said much like a child trying to keep a secret they longed to share.

Brooke set her pen down and leaned forward as she moved the pad to one side. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass that held a copy of her law degree in place in the frame on her desk. She automatically ran a hand through her unbrushed hair. She glanced down at the well worn Stanford sweatshirt and jeans that were in desperate need of washing and preyed McCoy wasn't all ready on the ferry.

"Jack, where _exactly_ are you," she asked just as she heard a click on the other end of the phone. "Jack?"

Brooke picked up the phone and began to redial when the sweet fragrance of carnations filled her nostrils. She looked up to find the source and smiled at the green carnation staring back at her.

Brooke stared to protest and was silenced by the shy smile and the twinkle in McCoy's eyes as he produced a bouquet of green carnations from behind his back. She took the bouquet and inhaled the scent, before McCoy bent down to kiss her in greeting.

"They are lovely, Jack. Thank you," she said as she ran a hand over his freshly shaved cheek.

"I'll bet you don't remember the first time I brought you green carnations," he said as he sat on the edge of the desk.

Brooke smiled knowingly up at him and promptly recalled the requested occasion.

"It was the night of our first fight…and the first time we got to make up," she said softly as she took the single carnation from his hand. "Green carnations became your trade mark that night."

McCoy nodded approvingly, as he moved to pick up legal pad the lay between them.

"It's that Irish thing," he said as Brooke snatched the pad out of his reach, while her face took on a scarlet glow. "Either you're not happy with your closing or you haven't started it."

Brooke flipped to a fresh page on the pad and opened the file in front of her.

"I was just doing a little brainstorming. Have the highlights up here," she said tapping her right temple. "You know I can't name names in a pending case, but it wouldn't be a breach of ethics to hit the highlights with the names changed to protect the innocent…not that 'innocent' applies to anyone involved in _this_ case."

McCoy took a seat behind the cluttered desk as Brooke stood in front of him and ran through her closing argument. For the next hour the pair worked in between bouts of laughter and serious deliberation. The laughter came when McCoy suggested a direction or gesture that Brooke embellished well aware of her lovers legendary flair during closing arguments. The serious collaboration to find a word or phase that would leave a lasting impression on the jury long after Brooke finished her closing, made McCoy nostalgic for his days as an EADA.

As she finished reading the final draft of her closing, Brooke leaned across the desk and grabbed McCoy by his shirt collar.

"…I said _look_ at the_ evidence_, Mr. McCoy, _not_ at your watch," she demanded. "This is a search for the truth! A man's life is at stake! Don't make me come back there and go through all one million five thousand pieces of the people's evidence on your lap!"

McCoy gave her a lecherous grin as he stood up and reached across the desk.

"Now that would hardly be a threat to any juror. At least not the men on your jury," he replied as he laughed softly.

"God, I've missed the sound of your laughter,"she whispered as his lips met hers.

McCoy nearly pulled her cross the desk as the kiss grew passionate. The only thing that stopped him was Cohen's curt warning from their meeting. His natural desires a side, he knew Cohen had nailed him with his remark about trying to 'fix 'Brooke with sex. Fix their relationship the same way he'd tried to fix his marriages, his relationship with Claire… his automatic response to a conflict involving who ever the current woman in his life happened to be.

"Maybe we better put these in some water," he said breathlessly as he reached for the bouquet.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"So, I assume you didn't just come out here to insure that I had a slam dunk closing for Monday," she asked as they entered the kitchen a few minutes later.

"The distance was only going to get greater, if one of us didn't swallow their pride," he said as he waited her set the vase of flowers on the walnut dining table.

"I figured distance was better than making you an easy target for my temper tantrums."

McCoy couldn't help notice how empty the downstairs rooms had become since his last visit. The kitchen counters were empty, as were the living room bookcases and mantel. The walls void of any artwork.

"When Sam started packing, I decided it was time for me as well," she explained, seeing McCoy's puzzled expression. "Jack, none of this is your fault. I have no right to take any of it out on you."

"I want to discuss that, Brooke. But not now. Right now, I want you to come with me. Can you spare the rest of the afternoon?"

It took Brooke less than fifteen minutes to figure out where McCoy was taking her. As he made the turn away from the ferry station and on to the two lane highway that ran the length of the beach, she knew he was heading for Myers Cove.

The route surprised and intrigued her. She hadn't been to the lover's lane of Islip since she was in late teens. She knew in the daytime the remote beach would be deserted. The water too shallow for any real fishing, the light too bright for any real privacy for romance.

As he turned onto the dirt road Brooke was glad she had taken the time to change into a tee shirt and shorts. The light windbreaker was perfect for the breezy ride down to the water, but the afternoon sun was high in the sky and the breeze unseasonably warm.

"Okay McCoy," she demanded as he removed a small cooler and blanket from the small storage compartment underneath the seat. "First, how does an out of towner know about the cove and second-"

"One question at a time counselor, "he said as he led her towards the pier. "When my first wife and I lived in Ocean Beach, we did some exploring over the years. When Becky was in high school, her mother heard about 'the cove' and strong armed me into a stake out the night of Becky's senior prom."

McCoy shuddered as he remembered the heated exchange between, mother, father, child and flustered boyfriend some many years earlier.

"Should I assume you brought me here for the same reason Donnie O'Malley tried to sell me the night of my senior prom?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow as the pair spread out the blanket under the most secluded part of the sand beneath the pier.

"That depends," McCoy said with leacherous smile. "Did you buy what young O'Malley was selling?"

The sound of Brooke's laughter was music to McCoy ears. He divided his attention between Brooke and uncorking the bottle of champagne from the cooler.

"The truth about you Irish boys is your blarney gets much better over time. Looking for sea shells after midnight, with nothing but a six pack of beer and a package of Trojans in the glove box didn't fly with this girl," she said as she took the offered plastic glass.

McCoy chuckled as he filled another glass.

"I wish I could say the same for Becky," McCoy said with a sigh. "At least in the daylight, a story like that might seem a little more plausible, although seashells weren't on my mind when I decided to bring you here."

Brooke leaned in as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What is on your mind, Mr. McCoy?"

McCoy accepted her invitation, kissing her mouth as he slowly pressed her down on to the blanket, his body covering hers. Again, he thought of Cohen's words, knowing his lover was just as well versed in the art of sex as diversion, as he was.

He started to break the kiss, knowing they needed the time to talk. Brooke pulled him back down. Anticipating his resistance, she seductively moved her body against his. McCoy looked down at his lover, returning the amused look in her eyes.

"You are making it very hard -"

"Am I,"she deadpanned as she shifted her body.

She smiled knowingly, as she felt the familiar stiffness that strained the front of his jeans.

"Damn you Brooke," he whispered as her hands moved down his back to fondle and squeeze his backside, before moving over his thighs. "You know, anyone could drive up and-"

"Don't tell me you're going to turn down sex on the beach because you've suddenly become shy,"she said playfully, as they rolled onto their sides."We both know Jack McCoy does his best work under pressure and in front of an audience."

McCoy closed his eyes as his body reacted to his lovers challenge.

"I don't recall turning down anything,"he shot back hoarsely, as he slipped a knee betwwen her legs and pressed into in softness.

As they kissed and explored one another, shirt buttons were unbuttoned, zippers and snaps undone, although only their jackets were completely removed. McCoy groaned as Brooke freed his stiffness from the confines of his clothing. Her fingers lovingly running over him, before gradually becoming teasing and demanding.

If McCoy took a moment to be honest with himself, he would have had to admit one of the reasons he'd chosen the Cove was the unlikeliness of anyone but the two of them venturing out there so early in the season. Although not as private in the daylight as some spots near his house in Ocean Beach, the Cove was one of the most beautiful spots in the area.

Deep down he knew the lack of privacy would only act as a temporary deterant to one of them initiating a reunion of the flesh. Deep down, he knew any meaningful conversation would wait until that reunion had occured.

Brooke lifted her arm to help McCoy free the arm of the confining top. She shivered with anticipation as she felt her bra fall forward next, its strap going the way of the sleeve. Her clothing dangled from her as McCoy carefully ran is hands over her bare breasts.

"Jack," she hissed, a wave of desire warming her body and saturating her already moist panties."Jack, I…I.."

McCoy turned his attention from the lingering kisses he was giving her neck and looked into her eyes. He could feel his body respond to the look of hunger in the lusty blue eyes that looked back at him.

"Tell me."

"Make love to me later," she said as she rubbed her breasts against the warmth of his chest."Right now, I want to be ravished."

McCoy let her pull his mouth back to her, her hands running through his hair and then back down to his center. McCoy followed her lead and roughly devoured her mouth, her neck, and her breasts. He buried his head against her as his mouth teased her nipples, his hands impatiently pulled her jeans and panties downwards.

As much as he enjoyed the mutually pleasurable partnership that their lovemaking often was, McCoy found himself even more aroused by Brooke's desire for him to be the aggressor. He moved between her legs, making it impossible for her to close them. His hands forced her arms and hands away from him, as he pinned her down while his mouth moved over her torso and below.

"Oh God," she gasped as his mouth manipulated her body. His tongue at first demanding and unyielding, then suddenly slow and teasing. "Bastard ."

McCoy grinned at his lover sheepishly, as he looked up from his task, a hand replacing his mouth as her hips continued you grind against him.

"Do you want me to stop," he asked, confident of her response.

Using every ounce of self control she had, Brook pulled away from him, as she tried to sit up.

"Yes, Jack I do," she whispered sweetly in his ear."Oh God, please….stop."

The split second of uncertainty on her lover's face was a picture Brooke found priceless. As she began to laugh, McCoy gave her a sly smile as he took her in his arms and reclaimed her mouth with his.

"So you want to play, do you," he as softly as he laid her back down.

McCoy reached for one of the plastic glasses and carefully poured some of the remaining champagne over her right breast. The sensation of the cold liquid on her warm skin caused Brooke to gasp. McCoy's warm tongue licked teasingly her nipple and the surrounding area, causing her to moan with pleasure.

As his mouth focused on her breasts, McCoy fingers returned to the wetness between her legs. Her body shamelessly anticipated his next stroke. A pleading groan would escape her lips when he appeared to be stopping or slowing. Just when she thought she couldn't be any more aroused, he slipped a set of fingers inside her.

As her body rose in time to the rhythm he set, she looked at McCoy who grinned with pleasure

"Tell me to stop again. Tell me to stop and I will."

Brooke reached for her lover's member as he leaned over her.

"Awfully sure of yourself, McCoy," she said hoarsely.

Before he could answer, McCoy found himself on his back. His lover's mouth pleasing him to the point his attempts at speech became groans of pleasure, as he made a vain attempt to slow his body's response.

"Wanton harlot," he whispered when his effort to raise Brooke's head from his hardness failed."I thought...you wanted..."

"I do, Jack," she responded while her hand replaced her mouth. "But what kind of woman would I be, if I let you do all the work?"

"Hardly work, love. Loving you is more than a pleasure," he said as rolled on top of her, slipping himself inside her without waiting for a response.

As he drove himself further inside her, her mind drifted back to the first time McCoy had kissed her. His reward for unexpected kiss had been a rebuff in the form of a sharp slap in the face.

She still see the look on McCoy's face when they stepped back from each other. It was one of the few times she'd seen the man show the slightest amount of uncertainity.

Even though she'd made the gesture...walked away with her virtue still in tact after an encouter with the legendary Jack McCoy..she knew gthe gesture had been a hollow one, at best.

Her body told her it was just a matter of time before they would be lovers. Even though she was well aware of his repuation inside, as well as outside of the courtroom, even before their lips had met her heart told her she could trust Jack McCoy with not just her body, but with her love, as well.

A message she'd received so clearly, only once before…

Brooke opened her mouth to reply. A cry of rapturous delight was all she was able to manage, as her body rose while she clung to her lover. Their limbs entwined. Their attempt to at least partially cover themselves had been long forgotten. Their hips continued to rise and fall together. What began as a playful challenge, made a natural turn towards something much more powerful.


	12. Daytime turns to Evening

As the breeze had began to cool, the pair finished the last of treats McCoy had packed in the ice chest. Brooke had immediately known where McCoy had gone to get a seafood platter that held such a wide array of choices. While she had focused on the crab and smoked salmon, her lover had chosen the pawns and blue oysters as they split the last of the champagne.

"Sometimes I forget how good you are to me, Jack," Brooke said as she snuggled closer to her lover.

"That's only because sometimes I forget how much you deserve, love."

The pair looked out at the incoming waves that had grown gradually closer over the course of the afternoon. They both knew it wouldn't be much longer before one of them would feel compelled to reluctantly mare their temporary paradise with talk of things both necessary and difficult.

"Jack, you gave me more than I ever expected to have," she said softly, as she continued to watch the waves. "You made me feel alive again."

"Brooke, you never have given yourself enough credit. I remember what a vibrant woman you were when we met. Even before …the times I saw you at bar association functions before and after Sam-"

Brooke shook her head as she turned to face McCoy.

"I was as alive as you were at those functions. Those functions you attended after you lost Claire," she countered gently.

McCoy nodded, his eyes registered immediate understanding.

"Sometimes I forget how long ago it's been," he replied as he ran a hand through her hair. "I'll never forget Claire, but never asked Claire to marry me. I never asked _any_ woman as many times as I've asked you. That's not meant to add more pressure, Brooke. I know the timing hasn't been what either of us had hoped for…"

"If you had waited for the right moment, you probably would have never asked."

"I want to make things better for you, honey. I want you to be happy and to have no regrets when we do decide to make this official," he said carefully."But, I'm not the one that can make those things happen."

Brooke smiled up at him . She hated to see the worry that clouded his eyes, the anticipation of disappointment that had become his constant companion after too many years in the DA's office and too many discarded relationships.

"That's not an easy realization for you to make," she said as she played a hunch. "Who pointed that out to you? Liz or Jake?"

McCoy started to protest, to assure Brooke her therapist hadn't violated any ethical rules. Then he realized the variation of his own manipulation Brooke was using.

"I plead the fifth – you're not narrowing the field with the old 'were you lying then or are you lying now' game. I admit to nothing, ADA Prescott."

Brooke stuck her tongue out at him, amused that McCoy had read her so well.

"And here I thought that pesky Fed was the only one who could beat me at my own game," she said running her hand through his hair. "So, you caught me McCoy.I guess that means I'll have to do my own digging later."

McCoy smiled to himself, taking note that she hadn't referred to Prescott as her husband or even her soon to be ex husband. A change he hoped he wasn't reading too much into.

"You can't control everything, Brooke."

"This coming from _Jack __McCoy,_" she sputtered. "May I remind you I'm an Assistant District Attorney; I can control everything I set my mind to!"

"No wonder I love you so much," McCoy said, as the pair laughed in unison.

"I love you too, Jack. I love you enough to stop talking in circles and say it outright. I want to marry you. I told you I would marry you. I just don't have enough of myself to give you right now."

"Brooke, we've talked about this," he said patiently. "I told you from the start how hard a divorce is. I remember what it did to myself worth...the sense of failure... Not to mention the practical changes that come with any divorce. I realize for a woman, a woman in your situation, it's an even bigger change."

"I can't leave you hanging while I find myself Jack. I made a commitment to you once and failed you-"

"Listen to me," he said intently, refusing to let the conversation take this sudden turn. "I did the same thing you did, with Liz, with my first wife."

Brooke's eyes widened as she listened to McCoy recount the last night he spent with his first wife, as well as the way he had manipulated the situation to get his former wife to give into him in a weak moment.

"Jack, you tried to save your marriage, that's hardly the same-"

"Brooke I did exactly what Sam did to you. I played on Liz's guilt, on her own regrets about the marriage ending. Why do you think couldn't let it go, even after you explained the situation? I understood more than you knew. I knew Sam would do anything he could, I knew eventually you'd find a way to let yourself give in. It was something you had to do. It's part of the process…just like letting go of the house…letting go of a marriage is letting go of a part of yourself."


	13. Time to Move On

"One of the first things Liz did was take her name back," McCoy continued when Brooke returned from the kitchen.

As the weather grew colder the pair had returned to Brooke's house. McCoy had lit a fire while Brooke made a pot of coffee to help warm them up from their motor cycle ride.

"I remember going down to Sex Crimes to ask her about visitation for Becky. I found her old nameplate in the trash and Liz removing the name from the door herself. She couldn't wait for maintenance to get rid of the last trace of her being a McCoy."

Brooke sighed as she handed him one of the steaming mugs.

"I suppose that made you feel like hell?"

McCoy shrugged indifferently and reached for the sugarbowl.

"I got over it," he replied, deliberately avoiding the attempt to side track him. "The point is, I understand why you need to 'find yourself' as you put it. The divorce won't be final for almost six months. After that you'll a have been out of the house, maybe have moved into the beach house…"

McCoy paused, seeing Brooke's shoulder's tense, ever so slightly.

"Unless you've made other arrangements," he continued. "Brooke, if you're more comfortable renting or buying a property, that's certainly understandable-"

"A friend from law school just opened up a new office. He's looking for a seasoned criminal attorney, as well-"

"Where-," he asked sharply, as his eyes fell on the large blue letters of the sweat shirt that bore the name of her California alma mata.

Brooke touched his arm reassuringly, as she shook her head.

"I turned the job offer down. That's in San Francisco. But, Bernie is putting his loft on the market…a market that is flatter than a pancake right now…"

"Brooke going to the west coast isn't-"

"No," she explained anxiously. "I'm not being clear. Bernie Kaufmann works out of the DA's office in the Bronx. He's ready for a change and he has family in San Fran…Jack the loft is in _Manhattan_. It's a rent control building. Bernie's had it on the market since December and he's getting desperate-"

Brooke saw an expression on her lover face she could count seeing before with less than the fingers on one hand. It was an expression seen when McCoy received the rare, unexpected visit, from his daughter. Brooke smiled at the look she referred to as Jack's 'Christmas Lights' expression. It was a look of utter joy that lit up the face of the world weary prosecutor.

"You want to move to the city? What about the house? Your job?"

"Can't afford it and two million people commute on the LIE every day, what's one more," she said, still grinning at McCoy's expression. "Besides, if you really want to do this marriage thing again, you're going to have to think about a move, yourself.You know the bathroom situation at your place is beyond hopeless."

McCoy tilted his head, as he tried to ignore the voice that reminded him how he'd sworn there would never be another move after his second divorce, unless it involved a pine box and a cemetery plot.

"So you're all right with Sam and possibly Danielle living…"

Brooke shrugged her shoulders as she toyed with McCoy's collar.

"Alright with it – no. Have to live with it – yeah. Your friend Dr. Olivet has a way of leading one to insights that aren't always easy to accept. Maybe living in Manhattan will take the edge off of it– you know – not driving by the house or running into Sam at the market and dry cleaners. We'll see. For now, it's a step I have to take."

McCoy smiled as her wandering hand found its way to the front of his shirt.

"I assume we're going to be alone for the rest of the evening,"he asked as Brooke opened his shirt front and began running her hands lightly over his chest.

"That's what I was told. If not well, I'm sure Sam and Danielle will get over the shock that you and I actually sleep together," Brooke said as she lay back on the sofa.

McCoy moved on top of her, placing his weigh on his knees and elbows as he gazed down at her with a grin.

"You sound awfully bold, Mrs. Prescott."

"Malinowski."

McCoy raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Prescott is a name that opens a lot of door in the criminal justice system," Brooke said with a sigh. "So does McCoy."

"Meaning?"

"I was never one to ride on someone else's coat tails Jack. Even coat tails as attractive as yours."

"Point taken, Ms. Malinowski," McCoy replied, as allowed himself be pulled down in to the warmth of his lover embrace.


	14. Movin' On Up

_This chapter picks up some months later..._

Brooke Malinowski made a mad dash for the kitchen counter, a foot haphazardly kicking the front door closed behind her, as her elbow pushed the light switch upwards.

"Please, please, please," she chanted as the combined weight of the grocery bags, dry cleaning, and briefcase began to get the best of her.

Cursing as one of the paper bags hit the chestnut floor, she forfeited the dry cleaning to save the bag with the eggs and bottle of Dewar's.

"God I hate high rises," she said to the empty loft as she rested the remaining bags on the counter.

In the three months since she had made the move from the beach community of Islip Long Island to the Midtown section of the Big Apple Malinowski felt she had begun tot adjust to city life amazingly well.

She had substituted her twenty minute walk to work for a seventy minute train ride. She had gone from home owner to renter of a 1800 square foot loft. Hardest of all, she had even managed to accept switching from her favorite family owned mocha shop that was across the street from the Islip courthouse, to the _Barista_ shop across from Penn station.

But what she thought she'd never get used to, was giving up was the luxury of unloading a week's worth of groceries via her car and lugging groceries up four flights of stairs on a bi-daily basis.

Malinowski had studied the Manhattan real estate market long enough to know the loft had been a gift. When her former law school chum had offered to give her a one year lease, with option to buy, and promised to the only double the amouont his rent controlled tenant had paid, the savvy Suffolk ADA knew the loft was a bargain she couldn't pass up.

As she bent down to pick up the dry cleaning, the intercom buzzer sounded. After hearing the familiar voice of her fiancée, she quickly tossed the dry cleaning on one of the two chairs around the oval dining table and dashed to the bathroom.

By the time she heard the knock on her door, she had changed out of her work clothes and into an over sized tee shirt and jeans. Both items decorated by random paint blotches.

"You're early," she announced, as McCoy gave her a peck on the cheek while he moved to set the box of assorted paint and painting equipment on the dining table.

"My last meeting was at the 2 7. Put me just around the corner from the hardware store and saved me another cab ride," he said as moved behind the room divider. "How was the commute?"

"You don't want to know."

As they chatted, Malinowski finished putting the groceries away and opened the bottle of scotch. When McCoy reemerged, he was clad in a worn pair of jeans and a painted stained tee-shirt.

"Don't forget the bell peppers this time, "he reminded her as he picked up a glass, while he watched her dial the number on the take out menu in front of her.

Once she had ordered the pizza, Malinowski turned her attention to the supplies on the table.

"You know if you don't want to deal with the train, I can make some calls," McCoy offered as he sipped the scotch. "I know the Bronx DA's office needs a Senior ADA for the Robbery-Homicide division. I myself, haven't had a decent Bureau Chef in Sex Crimes since Donnelly accepted her judgeship."

"We've discussed this more times than we've discussed what color to paint the kitchen," she said, teasingly tapping the end of his nose with her paint brush.

"I'll give in on the paint color, if you give in and interview in the Bronx."

Malinowski shook her head.

"The next major life change I'm making will happen the day of the wedding. Nothing else changes, before then. Now, how about we get some strokes in on the bathroom before _DaVinci's_ delivers," Brooke said as she handed him a paint brush.

The spacious bathroom was one of the features that sold both of them on the loft. The twin pedestal sinks, the separate shower, and free standing tub, as well as the generously sized walk in closets on either side of the doorway, made the modest bathroom in McCoy's brownstone apartment pale by comparison.

As they picked up where they had left off the previous weekend, the conversation continued, as well. Malinowski giving him a generic update on her caseload, McCoy bemoaning the endless meetings that made up the majority of his work schedule.

"I know you think I'll run for another term, Brooke. But, if I had it to do over again, I wouldn't have left trial work. At least when I gave my all to a case, I felt like I'd accomplished something. Sitting in meetings and giving speeches at dinners accomplishes nothing."

Malinowski sympathized. As proud as she was the strong support McCoy gave his staff, she knew the courtroom was his home. She watched as her fiancée carefully appraised the freshly painted walls. In even performing the simplest of tasks, she could see the importance McCoy placed taking care to be thorough in his work.

"I just can't see you working for some career politician – someone that won't give your people the support that you do. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't support whatever you decide to do. It's your career, Jack."

McCoy sighed as they heard the sound of the buzzer.

"These days, I'm leaning more towards taking up house painting as a profession and leaving the law to the likes of Cutter and Connie," he said with a grin.

While Malinowski dealt with the delivery, McCoy made a few more carefully passes with his brush. The work the couple had done on the loft reminded him of the work he did fixing up the first house he had owned years before. The summer that had been spent making the tiny house a home had been one of the happiest times, not only in the marriage, but in McCoy's life.

Redoing the loft and all the details that went into it...choosing new flooring, fixtures, and paint colors... were creating the same kind of intimacy he'd felt with his first wife. The project was also was taking the edge off McCoy's own reluntance to make the move from the apartment he'd lived in since before becoming an EADA.

While she set up the pizza and necessary utensils on the coffee table, McCoy draped a drop cloth over the sofa and turned on the television.

"If you're planning on watching a game…"

"I know the rule," he replied as took a slice from the box. "Friday nights are tape nights. No, I want to check CNN for a minute. Casey Novak just arraigned an aide of Congressman Prescott's on attempted-"

"John Prescott's aide," Malinowski asked sharply.

"You sound upset. If you'd ever had to deal with that arrogant SOB, you'd know there's more corruption-"

Malinowski rolled her eyes as she picked up her glass.

"I dealt with him for eight years. He's not only an arrogant SOB, he's also Sam's half brother."


	15. A New Case Unfolds

McCoy's eyebrows raised as his eyes widened in surprise.

"You're not serious," McCoy remarked as he reached for a napkin. "With all the media coverage surrounding Sam's 'death', as well as all the research my office did during the Lund case, I don't remember anyone making a connection between those two."

"Because of the dangers involved in being a federal prosecutor, Sam always played down his family connections. So did John. Besides the two of them are like night and day. Politically, ethically, in all the ways that count. If you have to deal with him, watch your back. John Prescott would sell his soul for a shot at the White House."

McCoy nodded as he recalled the final exchange he'd had with the Congressman nearly five years before. Even with so much time having gone by, McCoy recalled the dangerous look in the pale blue eyes during that exchange.

_"Who do you think you're talking to,"_ the Congressman had quietly demanded_. "Just who the hell do you think you're talking to McCoy?"_

_"I'm talking to a man who lets other people do his dirty work…,"_McCoy had said without blinking an eye.

"Oh, you got _that_ right, "Malinowski replied after McCoy repeated his own response. "John never was one to dirty his own hands...whether it was to do a day's honest work or to silence his opposition."

McCoy nodded in agreement as he listened to the report coming from outside the criminals courts building on Centre Street. As the perky blonde reporter recapped the outcome of Congressional aide Ethan Keller's arraignment hearing, the young aide accompanied by Congressman John Prescott, walked in to camera range.

Prescott answered the reporters with the same polish McCoy remembered. Prescott, a little greyer, a little more distinguished looking informed the reporter he himself had put up Keller's five million dollar bail and assured her that Keller would be vindicated on all counts of what he called, '…the unfounded charges generated by DA Jack McCoy's blatant grand standing' and his obvious attempt to tarnish the reputation of yet another associate of Prescott's.

McCoy's eyebrows shot up as Prescott called the charges 'an attempt for the Manhattan DA to redeem himself in the eyes of the voters, before he tries to run for a full term without the 'coat tails' of Arthur Branch to hold on to.'

"Oh my God," Brooke said incredulously, while turning to gage McCoy's reaction."He's even worse than he was the last time I saw him."

"If the voters can be fooled into re-electing a man like Prescott, they can be fooled in electing anybody," he said with disgust, while pressing the 'off' button on the remote. "Why a man like that would defend an aide on any criminal charge, is beyond me But aggravated rape and second degree murder? You two were family once. Can you figure what he has to gain by supporting this Keller?"

"John's been known to think when a woman says 'no' she really means 'yes'. But to publicly support a man that committed a rape that led to murder…," Brooke shrugged her shoulder, while she sighed. "I suppose I could call Sam and ask him-"

McCoy shook his head.

"Forget it. It doesn;t matter. If Keller did rape and murder that woman, Casey Novak will get a conviction, no matter how much money your ex brother in law wants to throw at the problem."

Brooke nodded as she reached for another slice of pizza. She remembered Novak from the Christmas party McCoy had taken her to. Although the slender blonde had initially struck Brooke as almost mousy in her demeanor, when the two women were given the opportunity to talk shop while McCoy had gone off in search of the bar, Brooke had found Novak to be more of a lioness. A prosecutor whose quiet manner gave way to fierce loyalty to not only the law, but to the victims she dealt with in her cases.

"Casey Novak…now that's how you should make your EADA for Sex Crimes," she said smugly as the land line in the kitchen started to ring.

"If she puts in for it, I'd agree, "McCoy said seriously. "But until then, I need her in the courtroom. Casey has the passion a prosecutor needs to get convictions in those cases. Someone more cold blooded can handle an administrative job like EADA in that bureau."

McCoy began to clear the coffee table of the remnants of their dinner, while Brooke took her call. As he made his way through the kitchen McCoy smiled as had he heard Brooke respond to a question from her assistant. As the conversation continued, he watched Brooke's face change from the usual amused expression she had wore she was speaking to Jake Cohen, to an expression of worry and concern. McCoy leaned on the counter and found himself surprised when Brooke handed him the phone.

"Jake's calling from William's place. They just saw the report on Keller's arrest. Apparently, William knows this aide from his own days as a Congressman."

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	16. Somebody's Got a Secret

"Jack, I'm telling you, there is no way Ethan Keller raped anybody."

The night before McCoy had been surprised to learn yet another indiviaual who had served in the House of Representataives was willing to go to bat for the young Congressional aide. In fact, he was dumbfounded whenformer Congressman William Davenport insisted on meeting with him to discuss the allegations early the next morning.

Cohen and Davenport were scheduled to join Malinowski and McCoyfor tile laying and brunch that Saturday morning. As his fiancee and her former assistant began removing tile in the bathroom, McCoy could see the younger man was sincere in his belief in the accused murderer. But he knew too well from his years as a prosecutor; sincerity didn't always lead to the truth. McCoy refilled Davenport's coffee cup before responding to the other man's declaration.

"Listen, Will, I don't doubt you believe Keller is innocent," McCoy began frankly. "But, SVU found enough evidence of his involvement to get an indictment. Unless you can bring me more than a character reference from a former employer, there's not much I can do."

"Jack, I was in politics almost seven years," Davenport responded with equal candidness. "I'm not naïve. I saw things in that time that might even shock a seasoned prosecutor, like you. But, Ethan was moral. He believed in the system. More importantly, he was one of the gentlest human beings I'd ever met. To drug and rape a woman…to overdose her and leave her to die….it's just not possible."

The two men sat at the bistro table that acted as Brooke's dining room table. McCoy leaned back and surveyed the man. Although his only knowledge of the man was via Davenport's relationship with Jake Cohen, McCoy knew most bosses kept relationships with subordinates to a casual at best, level. For Davenport to be so adamant about Keller's innocence, McCoy knew there had to be something Davenport was holding back.

"Did you make it a habit to get to know all of your aides well enough to defend them on felony charges," McCoy asked bluntly.

Davenport flinched slightly as he met McCoy's searching gaze.

"Ethan's interest in Lori Mills…or any other woman…could only be strictly professional," Davenport said with a sigh."You see… Ethan is gay, Jack. Correct me if I'm wrong, but gay men don't rape women, do they?"

"Are you saying Keller confided his sexual preference to you while you were involved with the Back to Basics organization? Before you yourself came out of the closet, yourself?"

Davenport glanced warily towards the other end of the loft.

"Jack, I have a lot to lose telling you this," he said softly. "But there's a man's life at stake. If there's one thing I've learned from my time with Jake, it's that it's better to face the truth, rather than hide it and have it become a weapon later."

McCoy nodded in agreement, as Cohen emerged from the bathroom with Malinowski.

"Well you two managed to talk your way out of the dirty work," Cohen said with a smile as he followed Malinowski into the kitchen. "Everything's up in the bathroom, including base boards and any trace of glue. That floor is as smooth as a newborn's butt, wouldn't you say boss?"

"Smoother, thanks to that solvent you found, Jack," Malinowski replied as she pulled a pitcher of ice tea from the fridge. "Tea or beer, Jake?"

"Gee…ten thirty a m . You tell me, Brooke" Cohen said turning to his partner. "Will, did you remember the bag with the extra shirts? This one is about soaked through."

"Yeah, I think we left it downstairs in the Porsche, "Davenport said, as he stood looking expectantly at McCoy.

McCoy stood as well, receiving Davenport's unspoken message. Before their perspective partners knew it, the two were out the door. Cohen did a double take as the door slammed and turned to take the offered glass.

"What just happened?"

Malinowski shrugged her shoulders, as she leaned against the granite counter.

"We just got ditched. I guess Will and Jack want to be alone," she said as she playfully smacked his forearm. "Your fault, as always, Cohen. Maybe you should keep a tighter rein on your man."

"Since I'm so inept, I guess that leaves you to worm whatever is going on out of Jack later," Cohen said as he looked around the space. "You know another month of weekend work on this place and you and Jack will have a real jewel here."

"Thanks. We couldn't have gotten so much done without you and Will, not to mention Jack's friends and colleagues. When this is over, Jack and I will have to figure out something to show our thanks."

"Well, as for _me,_ you could show your thanks by answering the question I've asked you at least five times this morning."

Malinowski gave her best friend an irritated glance, as she moved to the back of the kitchen and began moving boxes of tilw from the wall to the counter.

"Maybe you need to let go of the past, Jake."

"Oh come on Brooke," Cohen said as he moved to help her with the materials. "Telling Jack the extent of John Prescott sliminess would hardly be living in the past."

"Jack knows what John is," she said flatly, as she turned to pick up the rest of the tile.

In an uncharacteristically aggressive move, Cohen blocked her path and rested his hands on her shoulders.

"Jack knows John Prescott is a corrupt politician capable of everything that label entails," Cohen said imploringly. "Jack doesn't know the depths that bastard is willing to sink to personally. He can't know...unless you tell him."

"Damn it Jake, it was another lifetime ago. Sam doesn't even know," she said as she tried to turn away. "There's no reason either of them ever_ have_ to know."

Cohen tightened his grip, meeting his friend's look of anxiety.

"Brooke, for God's sake – this time it involves rape. _This time_ you don't have a choice."


	17. Friends and Family

"Jack to what do we owe the honor of having the District Attorney summon a lowly defendant and his counsel? I expected to be hearing from Cutter or Novak when your office was ready to file a dismissal motion."

McCoy chuckled as he waited for his longtime nemesis and her client to take their seats on the other side of his desk.

"Dismissal motion? Nice to see you haven't lost your sense of humor since the last time you were here. If memory serves me, that would have been to accept my offer of a guilty plea for your last client."

Danielle Melnick gave her old friend a curt nod, as she turned to her client.

"Don't worry, Ethan. Mr. McCoy won that case based on my client's confession. Since you're innocent, there's no risk of that happening here."

"This may surprise you Danielle, but you and I are in agreement on that," McCoy said candidly. "I doubt very much Mr. Keller is going to confess to a crime he did not commit."

Both Melnick and the fragile look man beside her exchange confused glances.

"Come on Jack, what kind of game are you playing," Melnick demanded."You just said you aren't dropping the charges."

"I can't drop the charges until Mr. Keller explains why he allowed samples of his own DNA to be planted at the crime scene, unless of course Mr. Keller did the battering that led to the death of Ms. Mills, while his partner committed the rape-"

"Partner,"Keller blurted out."I don't understand-"

"That makes two of us," Melnick said, holding a hand up to silence her client.

"I don't understand either," McCoy retorted, while holding Keller's gaze."I don't understand why innocent man would be willing to take the rap alone for not only murder, but rape. While sexual preferance is hardly a free paas on a rape charge-"

"What?!? What is that supposed to mean," Keller sputtered.

McCoy leaned in and met the other mans eyes with a piercing stare.

"It means Mr. Keller, your secret isn't a secret anymore. I know you're gay, Mr. Keller. If you don't start telling the truth-"

"How...where did you hear that,"Keller demanded.

"What matters is that it's true, Mr. Keller, not how I found out," McCoy countered. "Counselor, you might want to advise your client on the time he's looking at as an accessory to murder, as opposed-"

"Now wait a minute, Jack,"Melnick interjected intensely, as her mind raced to process McCoy's words."First of all, my client didn't commit _any_ of these crime. Second of all, if you think he is innocent of the rape charge, maybe we should start with you dropping that charge before-"

"Not until he names his partner," McCoy said firmly."You know how it works, Danielle. Right now, my office has enough evidence based on Mr. Keller's DNA at the scene to convict him on both the rape count and the subsequent murder. Unless he is willing to give me a name."

"You should be proud of yourself, Jack," Melnick said heatedly. "First, you use a man's sexual preferance to try to blackmail a man into telling you what you want to know.Then, you readily admit you'd send that same man - a man you know is innocent- to prison on a rape charge. Knowing what happens to convicted rapists in prison. Tell me Jack, now do you sleep at night, McCoy"

"Like a baby, counselor," McCoy shot back ignoring her outraged glare."Which is more than I can say for the victims family."

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"So Marta Hare, were you able to seduce the information out of Jack or have you lost you touch, now that you two have practically moved in together," Cohen asked as they pair left the elevator and moved down the main hallway of the Suffolk County District Attorney's office.

"Oh he gave me some lame story about Will wanting him to ask me to approach you for gift ideas for your bithday present,"she said impatiently. "When I pointed out your birthday isn't for another four months, Jack just muttered something about how Will likes to shop early and then he changed the subject."

"Well, why didn't you change it back," Cohen persisted."You're not exactly shy about sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Like you're any better," she said while she gave him a friendly samck on the arm.

"Yeah, but that's only because I've worked with you for too long. You're a bad influence, boss."

Malinowski mimicked him, until they both started to giggle.

"Besides," she continued as she opened her office door. "I kind of liked the change."

"Hot intellectual discussion, no doubt?"

Malinowski shot him an amused glance as she replied lightly, "Who said there was any talking involved, Cohen?"

"Oh, some friend you are. You put sex before-," Cohen began, stopping abruptly when the pair noticed the man sitting in front of Malinowski's desk.

Cohen shot his superior a guarded glance as Congressman John Prescott stood to embrace his former sister in law. Malinowski stepped back and out of his reach, nearly bumping into her assistant. Cohen, protectively moved her slightly behind him.

"Oh Mr. Cohen, forgive me. You have obviously have forgotten who I am. We met several years ago at Sam and Brooke's wedding. I'm Brooke's brother in law-"

"I know who you are Congressman," Cohen said coldly. "What do you want?"

"Jake, why don't you start those warrants Clint asked for before lunch," she said regaining her composer.

Cohen continued to glare at the distinguished figure in the dark blue suit. The grey in his hair brought out the light green in his eyes. John Prescott was considered an attractive man by any standard, yet the coldness in his eyes betrayed the ruthlessness that lurked beneath his urbane manner.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm-"

"Jake," she said sharply, as Malinowski walked behind her desk. "Renard needs those warrants, now. I can deal with Congressman Prescott quite well myself, thank you."

Prescott gave Cohen an amused smile as the other man reluctantly closed the door left the room. Prescott's smile deepened as he moved to close the door Cohen had deliberately left ajar.

"The years have been kind to you Brooke. You look even more radiant than you did on your wedding day,"Prescott commented as he took a seat across from Malinowski."When I read about the divorce...that Sam had come back from the dead only to let you slip through his fingers... it confirmed what I've always suspected about my brother."

"I'm sure you didn't come all the way from Washington to discuss the divorce," she said wearily.

"I see you still like to come right to the point, my dear,"he replied as he leisurely placed his fee on the desk top. "Although I suppose indirectly, I _am_ here to talk about the divorce. If my brother had managed to hold on to you, I doubt you'd be mixed up with that annoying Mick in Manhattan."

Malinowski tried to cover her uneasiness by picking up the glasses that lay on the desk, before she reached for a manila folder.

"My relationship with Jack McCoy doesn't concern Sam. It certainly doesn't concern _you_, John," she said shortly, while roughly pushing his feet off the desk top.

"What concerns me is that your Mr. McCoy nosing around in the affairs of those that are close to me," Prescott remarked coolly, while he firmly removed the file from her hands.

Malinowski looked up, causally opening the drawer at he center of her desk, just enough to slip a set of fingers inside.

From the moment she met John Prescott, she was stuck by the contrast between the man and his brother. Where Sam Prescott had the quiet confidence of a man who had worked for everything he had, John had the arrogance of a man who felt entitled to what he had and more. With Sam, Malinowski had felt an almost immediate sense of trust and safety in his company. John's cool smoothness had resulted in an almost immediate sense of wariness and unease.

"If your aide has committed multiple felonies, Jack has no choice but to have his office take appropriate action," she said carefully slipping her hand out of the drawer and onto her lap. "I don't know why you don't just distance yourself from Keller instead of going on national television with the man."

"Now Brooke," he said as he stood and leisurely came around to her side of the desk, resting behind her chair."You're an attorney and a damn good one. You know Ethan Keller has only been accused of these crimes. You know police plant evidence all the time, especially if it can embarrass a popular politician, such as myself."

Malinowski started to push her chair back, but froze when she felt Prescott's hands resting on her shoulders.

"Get your hands off me, John."

"Why, Brooke? I can feel the tension," he said softly as his hands moved over her shoulders. "Between your job and the divorce you must be a bundle of nerves. Not to mention the stress of being involved with a hot head like McCoy. That man made me a bundle of nerves, just trying to make him see reason. Sleeping with him would be enough to-"

"What do you want," she said as she started to rise, only to be firmly pushed back down into the chair, before Prescott's hands moved from her shoulders to her neck.

Malinowski closed her eyes as she rested her hands in her lap, reassured by the feel of the thin blade of metal.

"I want you to convince your lover to wrap up this investigation and accept what is obvious. There's no need to dig into the privates lives of my staff," he said, his breath warm against her ear. "We both know a rape count is difficult at best to prove, as for the murder count…well the evidence speaks for itself, doesn't it?"

"I _said_ get your hands off me."

She could hear the faint chuckle; she felt Prescott's lips against the back of her neck. Malinowski tightened her grip on the letter opener. Without warning, she brought her hands up and plunged the metal upward.


	18. The Congressman from New York

The steady sway of the train and the reassuring sound of the track against its wheels lulled Brooke Malinowski further into the alcohol induced relaxation that it had taken nearly three martini's to generate. She rested her head against the window of the commuter train and glanced at the woman who sat beside her in the crowded club car. She was about sixty and thoroughly engrossed in the romance novel she was reading to pass the time as the train moved towards Manhattan.

Malinowski had been working hard not to dwell on what her mind presisted in returning to. As she closed her eyes, she finally gave in and let her thoughts take her back to what was supposed to have been one of the happiest days of her life.

The first round of renovations on the Victorian she and Sam Prescott had purchased had been completed in time for the couple to show the house off the afternoon scheduled for their engagment party. The couple invited friends, family, and colleagues for an afternoon of jazz, finger food, and Sam Prescott's 'world famous' mint juleps. Much to their surprise everyone on the guest list had showed, including Sam's half brother, who had just won his first term to serve in the House of Representatives.

When the couple invited the future groom's older brother, Sam had been candid about the chances of his estranged brother from attending. Much to his surprise the Congressman had arrived, gift in hand and charm on full force.

As the afternoon progressed, the summer heat and humidly rose, intensifying the effects of the traditional southern libation.

When the phone call came, the sam Prescott had just playfully thrown his fiancee in the pool fully clothed in a sheer pale yellow cocktail dress. Slightly drunk and happier than she could remember being, Malinowski had laughed the gesture off.

In those days, Malinowski's motto had been 'don't get mad, get even'. With those sentiments in mind, lured Sam to the water's edge with, the promise of a kiss. As he bent down to claim his prize, she of course, grabbed him by the tie and pulled him down in to the water.

When Jake Cohen reluntantly handed Prescott the cordless phone, Sam's manner turned instantly somber. Regretfully he told Malinowski about the witness that had been threatened, who was now urgently requesting a meeting with the federal prosecutor immediately.

Moments later Malinowski watched from the porch as Sam's car pulled out of view and a hand fell on her shoulders.

_"Now young lady, don't look so glum. You still have one Prescott man left to entertain you."_

Malinowski smiled weakly as she looked up at him and indicated the line of cars that had begun to make their way down the street.

_"That's sweet, John. But it looks like the party's on its last leg now that the host has left the building."_

John Prescott smiled thoughtfully and turned her to face him.

"_All that's means my dear, is you and I will have to finish the mint juleps on our own. In fact, why don't you run upstairs and change out of those wet things before you have the neighbors talkin'. I'll say your good byes to the guests that are left and then I'll make us both a julep, the** right** way."_

Malinowski looked down at the wet chiffon and blushed. The light fabric clung to her, leaving little to the imagination. She immediately started towards the door as she used her arms and hands to make an awkward attempt at modesty.

_"Sounds like a plan. Be down a few minutes,"_she said before hurriedly entering the house.

Malinowski's search for an alternative outfit had been interrupted by a phone call from a her fire fighter brother, who had been called away from the party earlier due to a fire at the opposite end of the county.

She had just hung the phone up when she heard a faint tap on the bedroom door. After hurriedly scanning the room, she grabbed the robe that lay on the edge of the bed, just as John Prescott cautiously peeked into the room.

_"Are you decent, girl?"_

_"Sorry to keep you waiting. I got stuck on the phone."_

John Prescott gave her a reassuring smile, as he handed her a glass.

"_Last guest just left,"_ he said surveying the large room."_This really is quite grand. You know, the house Sam and I were born in was smaller than this room."_

"_So he's told me,"_she said tightening the belt of the robe, as she moved towards the bathroom_."I just need a minute, John."_

"_Oh, of course you do_," he said flushing slightly, as he took a few steps towards the door before stopping._ "I apologize, my dear. I must admit, I'm impressed with what you two have done with this place. This room especially…Sam tells me you did most of the work yourselves?"_

_"It amazing how motivated ones gets when you're saving 2/3's of the renovation cost by just rolling up your sleeves."_

Prescott nodded.

_"I can image. Would you mind if I looked around while you freshen up? The stain glass in that window is remarkable. I had no idea my little brother was so artistic."_

Malinowski hesitated, glancing at the window. As proud as she was their first attempt at stain glass design, she didn't see how the simple design featuring hot air balloons could be considered more than passable.

She could feel Prescott's inquisitive eyes on her and suddenly she felt more than a little foolish.

As she moved towards the bathroom door and shrugged her shoulders and she set the glass on the vanity table.

_"Sure, why not."_

_"Oh, now don't forget this, darlin',"_ he said letting his native West Virginia accent slip into his speech for the first time all afternoon as he picked up her glass._ "While you're dressin' you have to give that a try. See you can taste a difference between my julep and Sam's."_

Malinowski took the glass before closing the door behind her.

When she came out of the bathroom, the room was spinning. Prescott turned, wearing an expression of false concern. and a shirt that now had the first few buttons undone.

_"Darlin' are you all right,"_he asked, his voice almost mirroring his brother's _"Come on now darlin', lean on me. Let's get you into bed."_

Malinowski leaned against him, Prescott holding her up until he was able to get her onto the bed.

_"God, what's wrong with me?"_

_"You know, those juleps can really sneak up on you, if you're not used to them," he said as he loosened her robe. "Let's make you a little more comfortable, Mal."_

Malinowski fought to keep her eyes open, but to no avail. As her head fell back on the pillow, she could feel the front of her robe fall open. Instinctively, her hands moved to close the robe.

Upon hearing the name only her fiancee used, Malinowski felt even more confused. She shook her head as she closed her eyes, trying to clear her head.

_"They've never…hit me this hard,"_she began, her words labored and running together."_Sam?"_

_"That's right, Mal,"_ he whispered as he took her hands and began kissing her neck_."Just close your eyes and relax. You just let me take care of you and you'll be fine darlin'."_

The persistent ringing of her cell phone abruptly turned Malinowski's attention back to the present.

"Sorry I didn't pick up sooner," she said as she pressed the device to her ear," I'm on the train-"

"I figured as much," the friendly voice on the other end replied."I'm in your office. I figured since it was empty, you slipped out to catch the early train. When I saw the Congressman heading for the exit with a hanky wrapped around his hand, I figured you'd made your point, so to speak?"

Malinowski laughed at Cohen's droll tone, as she moved the remainder of her drink out of reach.

"Yeah, he got the point. I promise I'll never complain about receiving practical gifts, like a letter opener, for Christmas again."

"Well, you know 'Christmas' isn't exactly a Cohen specialty anyway," he said with a chuckle. "Listen, I want to know what that pig wanted – besides the obvious- but that's not the main reason I called. I had the radio on while I was working on those warrants for Renard. I just heard that aide – Keller- was found in a hotel room in Chelsea this afternoon."

"In a hotel room?"

"Yeah. Looks like a suicide. I guess that means the end of John Prescott's unannounced visits for awhile. Maybe it means one less headache for Jack, as well."


	19. Dinner and Discussion

"Liv, if it were up to me, this one would either stay with you guys in SVU or go to homicide."

Detective Olivia Benson shot the Major Cases detective an amused glance as she stepped away from the lifeless body of Ethan Keller.

"Look at it this way Mike, this case will give you a nice break from the usual assortment of serial killers and psycho paths you guys deal with in the Major Case Squad."

"What a trade off. A chance to deal perverts and child rapists, instead of ordinary nut jobs," he retorted. "Although, it looks like this guy might be different. Maybe Keller grew a conscious and killed himself because he couldn't live with killing the Mills girl."

Benson nodded as she watched members of the CSU release the noose around Ethan Keller's neck. Benson stepped away from Detective Logan and turned her attention to the beam from which the victim had hung and the chair that lay at Benson's feet.

"Maybe, but I doubt it," Benson said shrewdly. "Keller was maintaining his innocence as of this morning. He and his lawyer met with the DA to discuss some kind of deal. Sounded to Cragen like the charges might have been reduced if Keller and been ready to deal with McCoy."

Logan nodded in agreement.

"Makes you wonder what the connection is."

"Connection?"

"The connection between McCoy and Keller," Logan explained. "I mean, how often does the DA himself negotiate a plea in a rape/homicide?

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"It just doesn't make sense, Jack."

Jack McCoy nodded in agreement with the woman across the table from him. Although he and Danielle Melnick had been on opposite sides of the aisle all of their professional lives, they both both agreed something was off. They both could see the contradiction in the actions of a defendant who had so adamantly claimed his innocence, suddenly taking his own life.

"Listen, Danielle. It's only been a few weeks. Major Case and SVU haven't completed their investigation yet. Give it a little more time."

"Speaking of time," Melnick replied as she looked at her watch. "Where do you suppose our significant others are? The reservation was for seven and it's nearly seven thirty."

McCoy glanced around the dining room and passed Melnick into the ajoining bar. Malinowski and Sam Prescott were nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe this is an omen that we should avoid tempting fate," he said, pointing to the two empty glasses as the waiter passed by.

"You mean the four of us having dinner together," Melnick said with amusement."Don't tell me you feel threatened having dinner with your fiancées ex husband."

"Of course not," he retorted. "I just meant things could get ugly if Prescott isn't to be treating you that way you should be treated."

"Aw Jack, I didn't think you cared," she said with a smile, as she patted his hand."And here I thought it was Brooke and I comparing notes on you that made you nervous."

"Do I look nervous,"he said with a sheepish smile."I hadn't even considered the possibility,"

The last several weeks had been a time of solitude and bonding that McCoy especially had relished. The renovation had been the couple's main focus. This gave them a legitimate excuse to avoid social commitments in favor of planning, what was fast becoming, their dream home.

When Malinowski had told McCoy of Sam Prescott's desire for the four to meet for dinner, it had taken more than a little pressure to get McCoy to agree. Had it not been for Melnick's insistence a few days later, McCoy would have haapily put his fiancee off until she tired of pursuing the subject.

McCoy and Melnick were about to continue their good natured bantering when they both turned, along with the rest of the patrons,to hear the heated exchange coming form the entry.

"Me or you Jack," Melnick asked, just before McCoy got on his feet.

"Damn it Mal, lower your voice before someone calls the police,"Sam Prescott demanded as her helped his former wife remove her coat.

"I'll lower my voice when you drop the subject,"she responded as the nervous looking girl behind the counter gave Prescott a claim check for the coats. "I swear being a Fed all those years affected your mind. The details of my life are on a need to know basis and _you_ do _not_ need to know them! Jake had no business telling you about John's visit and _you_ have no business treating me like a child!"

"Excuse me. Danielle wants to know if you two will be finished with your battle in time for dinner or should we just order and expect you in time for dessert?"

Malinowski grimaced at her lover's attempt at humor, as she accepted a peck on the cheek.

"_I_ for one am famished,"she said raising an eyebrow in Prescott's direction." As for this one…he can argue by himself.. because as far as I'm concerned the subject _is_ closed."

McCoy turned to follow Malinowski, as she strode towards the table. When he felt Prescott's hand on his shoulder McCoy turned and waited for Prescott's explanation.

"Listen, Jack. I suspect she hasn't told you about her visit with my no account brother," Prescott said intently.

"Your brother? Congressman Prescott ? No, she hasn't Sam.," McCoy replied with mild surprise."When was this?"

"The day your murder suspect committed suicide,"Prescott said flatly."Jake Cohen called me that evenin'.When I called to find out what John was really after, Mal gave me some double talk and has been dodging me ever since."

"Is it really so unusual for your brother to talk to Brooke," McCoy asked as the two men moved slowly towards the table. "I mean, you two were married a longtime. Your brother may still think of Brooke as family-"

"Jack, you've met my brother," Prescott replied bluntly,"does he strike you as a 'family man'?"

McCoy thought about the man who had been waiting in his office at the end of Eric Lundcase, years before. The causalities at the end of the day were a dead NYPD undercover cop, the career of one thirty year political reporter who had dared to help McCoy's office in their investigation, and one former congressional aide who was gladly going to prison for fifteen years. Lund had made it clear fifteen years was a small price to pay to protect the man he believed would be president one day.

"Point taken," McCoy said softly as they reached the table.

McCoy could see the frustration in the other mans eyes. Frustration that seemed to come from genuine concern for his former wife. He turned his attention to Malinowski who continued discussing fabric samples with Melnick as if the heated exchange with Prescott had never occured. Knowing it would be pointless to press her in the company of others, McCoy promised himself he'd have the answers Prescott desired before the end of the night.

McCoy had spent the evening observing Malinowski much the way he used to observe a suspect during a trial. He noted her apparent preoccupation during several lulls in the conversation, as well as the obvious effort she made to keep the conversation on a light note, free of anything that could remotely turn the conversation back to the Keller death.

By the time they arrived at McCoy's place, she had been on to him for a while. Choosing to wait him out as long as she could, she promptly went in the bedroom, while McCoy discarded his jacket and tie as he checked his answering machine.

"Do you want a night cap," he called out as he began unbuttoning his sleeves.

"I think I had enough to drink at the restaurant. That last glass of merlot did it for me,"she replied as she joined him on the living room sofa.

McCoy smiled at her thinly veiled attempt to distract him . The purple satin robe had been a favorite of his since he'd given it to her for Christmas. The color brought out both the highlights in her auburn hair and the cornflower color of her eyes.

"Tonight is a first," he said undaunted. "This is the first time I can remember seeing you and Sam stay upset with each other more than five minutes."

"Must be a sign we've both moved on," she said lightly as she ran a hand over the light stubble on his cheek."Are you about ready to call it a night?"

McCoy rested an arm along her shoulders, as he shook his head.

"Something's been on my mind and I want to discuss it with you."

He could feel the sudden stiffness in her shoulders, as he saw the lines on her forehead deepened.

"Jack, if this is about my visit from-"

"Actually it's about a visit _I_ got, a few weeks ago," he began.

Malinowski's eyes widened with surprise as McCoy revealed the details of both his settlement meeting with Melnick and Keller , as well as the revelation William Donovan had made almost a month earlier, regarding Keller's sexual preference.

McCoy couldn't be sure, but as he thought about the events surrounding the Keller cases and the principals involved, he couldn't help but conclude the bits of information had to fit together somehow. He hoped discussing them with Malinowski would not only provide his fiancée with a safe place to discuss whatever John Prescott had come to discuss with her, but might help him to see a pattern, as well.

"So, you're saying you don't think Keller acted alone," she asked thoughtfully, once he'd finished."You believe Will when he says Keller was gay?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, what matters is what I can prove,"McCoy said frankly."But, I can't think of a reason for the man to lie, can you? I mean, Will already lost his own congressional seat when he admitted he is gay. For him to admit Keller had come on to him when Will was part of the leadership of Back to Basics…that he didn't immediately seek Keller's resignation or out him then and there… I just don't see Will admitting to something like that unless it's true. What reason would he have…"

"I don't understand why he hasn't told Jake about it as well. I mean secrets are never good in a relationship, especially with everything they have gone through."

McCoy bit his lips, as he looked downward, knowing he had his fiancee right where he wanted her.

"Secrets can destroy a relationship. My guess is, that there's more to the come on and Will's response than he wants to let on; but that's between Will and Jake. Right now, I'm more concerned with how John Prescott figures in to all of it."

Malinowski smiled back at McCoy, as he lifted his eyes to gauge her reaction. She shook her head, realizing she had been caught in McCoy's verbal trap.

"Damn you're good,"she said softly, as she moved closer to him.

"So you've said, on more than one occasion,"he said with amusement, as she kissed him.

The kiss itself was long and sweet. McCoy indulged himself, knowing when they finished, she would have no choice but to tell him about John Prescott's visit.

Several minutes later, he leaned back and grinned down at her, as she snuggled against his chest.

"It's rude to gloat, Jack."

"Maybe, but you _do_ agree secrets in a relationship can come to no good?"

"You know you're going to get very bored, very fast, if I report every encounter I have every day –"

"Maybe you should limit your report to those encounters that involve stone cold killers and career politicians like John Prescott."

"I didn't tell you, because I took care of John myself. Besides, it's just going to annoy you,"she said sullenly. "The case is over. The accused dead. So it really-"

"He came to see you about the case? Brooke, what did he want," McCoy said sharply.

Malinowski stared at the expression of frustration and worry on his face. She shivered as a look very much like McCoy's flashed through her mind. The look Jake Cohen had on his face when he returned to the Prescott house the day of the engagement party. When he returned and finding no one downstairs, he went upstairs to the master bedroom…

"Brooke, what did he want," McCoy repeated, this time with more force. McCoy couldn't help but notice how pale she had become. "Did he …did he _threaten_ you?"

"He wanted me to get you to stop poking around in Keller's affairs,"she said, bolting from the sofa."He said things were obvious. That you should wrap up the investigation and stop investigating his staff."

"He wanted the investigation stopped? I thought he was Keller's number one supporter? Eventually, the investigations would have taken suspicion way from Keller. If Will's story checked out Keller would have ended up with a lesser charge…maybe even had the charges dropped against him. It doesn't make sense."

Malinowski could sense McCoy had joined her by the window. As they both stared at the nearly empty street below them, she thought about McCoy's words.

She had to agree with her lover. The DA's office investigation of Keller could very well have been a good thing for Ethan Keller. If Keller had been cleared or had named another as the person responsible for Lori Mills dying during her rape, Prescott's office would have quietly faded from media attention in the matter.

"Jack, the investigation into the Mills girl's death. Now that the prime suspect is dead, is it still ongoing or did the 1 6 close it?"

"With the back log of cases SVU has, given the fact they had charged a suspect, I would assume it's been filed in the closed case file. Why?"

A sense of dread began to spread through Malinowski. A feeling that made her dizzy with fear. She steadied herself by leaning against her lover. After several minutes, she forced herself to ask a question she was afraid she already knew the answer to.

"Jack, since the case is closed, you can answer questions without fear of a breach of ethics. You said Lori died during the rape….an overdose…not due the injuries she sustained?"

She could feel McCoy shake his head, as he put his arms around her.

"Tox screen came back positive for cocaine and hydronymocine – the date rape drug," he explained quietly. "Apparently the victim had done a few lines of cocaine no more than an hour before she ingested the hydronymocine. Alone, neither drug would have killed her, but the combinating the two would have guaranteed a lethal result."

"Guaranteed?"

McCoy nodded.

"ME says combining the two drugs would be like putting a match to gasoline. The results would be immediate and deadly."


	20. Surprise Visitors

Malinowski was almost through her second white iced raspberry mocha when she saw the tall, darkly handsome detective dash cross the street. Malinowski tossed the cup in the garbage and followed Logan, taking care to replace her floppy hat and dark glasses. Although her attire made her feel more than a little foolish, she knew if McCoy spotted her, foolishness would be the least of her worries.

When McCoy sleepily reviewed his adgends for the next morning, he mentioned the task force meeting at the 1 6. The focus of the task force officially would be Keller's death. McCoy also mentioned former officers from the 2 7, Don Cragen and Mike Logan, who would also be in attendence

. Malinowski knew it was an opportunity for her to do what she should have done when she learned of Prescott's indirect involvement in Lori Mills's death.

Part of her wanted to tell McCoy everything the night before…something she promised herself she would do once she knew for certain John Prescott couldn't retaliate against her lover. For now, talking to an investigating officer, an officer she was confident wasn't in Prescott's pocket, was the first step.

"Hey Logan, wanna split a cab with a shyster?"

Logan was half way into the cab, when he turned to see a woman running towards him. His face broke into to a wide grin when she removed her glasses. Standing back up, Logan held the door open for the ADA.

"Now what makes you think we're going to the same side of town counselor, " he asked climbing in beside her."It's Saturday morning. I'll bet you're either shopping on the westside for your wedding dress or heading south to the discount stores for your version of _Home Makeovers_."

"Actually, I'm in no hurry, "she said more to the waiting cabby than to Logan."Take him wherever he wants to go, first. By the way, I get that you knew I'd need a wedding gown since I saw you the night I accepted Jack's proposal, but how'd you hear about the renovation?"

Logan laughed as he thought of the evening they had spent eating potato skins and weighing the pros and cons of marriage to Jack McCoy. Although Logan and the DA had bumped heads more than once, Logan had found the man's fiancée a pleasure to talk to and was curious as to the reason she had tracked him down that morning.

"No mystery there, counselor, "he said confidently."I am partnering temporarily with Benson at the 1 6. She and Novak are pretty tight. Apparently, with the all of paint swatches and carpet samples on McCoy's desk, people think he's either getting ready to retire and open a _Home Depot_ franchise or that you two bought some mansion in Westchester to redecorate."

"Hardly," she retorted.

Logan listened with polite interest as she described the loft on the westside and the trials and tribulations of home remodeling.

"You know Brooke...or... should I help get you used to being called 'Mrs. McCoy'?"

"If you aren't comfortable with 'Brooke' you can call me what Jack calls me,"she said sweetly.

Logan raised his eyebrows and waited.

"High Priestess of Infallibility," she deadpanned.

"I think I'll stick with Brooke," he said as he snickered."You know, as enthralling as all this domestic bliss is for a single guy like me to hear about, somehow I don't think that's what got you over to the 1 6 on a Saturday morning."

"Not buying the happy coincidence routine, huh,"she responded as she shrugged for shoulders."Can't blame a girl for trying. The thing is, I need to talk to you about a case and I need to keep it between us."

It wasn't more than ten minutes before Logan was offering Malinowski a freshly toasted bagel in his modest four room walk up. She had been impressed with the unusually neat kitchen and living area when she stepped into the apartment.

Neat, clean, almost free of clutter – save for the basket of clean laundry on the coffee table and the pile of opened mail on the kitchen counter. A place for a man who rarely came home to rest his head and keep his clothing. A picture of a woman Malinowski assumed was his sister. sat beside the mail.

"You need a woman's touch in here Logan" she said as she dabbed at the butter on the plain white dish.

"Is that an offer, counselor?"

"An offer to set you up, detective," she countered. "If you aren't put off by long distance romances, I have friend in the property office in Islip that would be perfect-"

Logan held a hand up as he gave her a smile.

"Maybe after you fill me in on this case you're concerned about. Must be pretty big for you...an engaged woman... to be willing to come to my place to talk about it."

"It is," she said between bagel bites. "Am I going to be sorry I trusted you, if I tell you some things I don't want repeated. Things I specifically don't want repeated to Jack, unless he needs them later to get a conviction at trial?"

"Anything you say here stays here, unless we need it to nail a bad guy," he said seriously.

She nodded as she finished the bagel. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she spoke.

"I think Congressman Prescott raped and murdered Lori Mills."

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"You think or you know," Logan asked, as he reached for his note pad and pen.

"I know what John Prescott is capable of, Mike. He was my brother in law. I know he has access to at least one of the drugs they found in the victims tox screen."

"Brooke, you know people make accusations against family members all the time, for less than noble reasons. I have to ask. Do you and the Congressman have bad blood between you?"

"Do you mean am I out to get him? No. In fact, I'd be happier to not ever have to say his name much less, discuss his personal life with you or anyone else. By talking to you I am not only taking a personal risk...which I am prepared to deal with...but I could be setting up several people that I care about for retribution. Those people include yourself and Jack. No Mike, this isn't about personal gain of any kind."

Logan studied her face. Although the accusation initially shocked the detective, the trust between him and Brooke Malinowski went both ways. As much as he feared he knew the answer to the question he was about to ask, he knew it had to be asked.

"I know this isn't going to be easy for you, Brooke. I need to which drug you believe the congressman has access to and how you came to know he has it."

Malinowski nodded.

"He has access to the date rape drug, Mike," she said impassively."I know, because he used it on me."

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She was relieved when the cab pulled away from the front of Logan's building nearly two hours later. Relieved to have her revelaed her to someone she not only trusted, but someone she knew would see justice was served without concern for his own career or personal benefit.

She remembered reading about the fiery Manhattan detective that had punched out a arrogant city councilman years before, only to be exiled to Staten Island for his trouble. When she started seeing McCoy, Logan's name had come up on more than one occasion. Although it was apparent the two Irishmen were far from best friends, it was clear even McCoy admired the strength of Logan's convictions, misguided though they may have been.

As she told Logan the basis for her suspicions, he did his best to keep his outrage in check. Nodding and patting her hand, he encouraged her to continue, without leading her responses. She knew his final words were well intentioned. They were words she'd heard before from Jake Cohen, immediately after Prescott's last visit.

_"You have to tell Jack."_

What both Logan and Cohen failed to understand was McCoy was the last person she could tell.

He was the person she desperately longed to tell, but she knew McCoy. She knew John Prescott. As loving and protective as McCoy would be, Prescott would be just as be vindictive and cruel. Telling McCoy would be to set in motion his own personal and professional down fall, at least, if she told him before Logan had a chance to nail Prescott for his latest actions.

She closed her eyes and leaned back on the head rest. Even after so many years, she still couldn't quite get the sequence of events down. She still couldn't completely accept what had happened and that she'd been careless enough to _let_ it happen…

She felt the robe fall away from her once more, this time her hands were unable to move to cover herself. She could hear his voice, so soothing, so reassuring, so much like her soon to be husbands…

_"…Sam?"_

"That's right, Mal," he whispered as he took her hands, holding them above her shoulders, while he began kissing her neck_."Just close your eyes and relax. You just let me take care of you and you'll be fine darlin'."_

She knew something wasn't right. He said the right things, in the right way, but his scent…the way he touched her…the feel of his mouth on her body…

_"No… something's wrong...no, stop,"_ she heard herself say as she tried to lift her head.

Her body felt weighed down. Every move was so labored, so difficult to carry out. She could hear him telling her not to fight it, to lay back enjoy it…he'd make her forget…

_"Before I'm done, you'll want this too, darlin',"_ he whispered as he pulled her legs apart_."Before I'm done you'll be beggin' for it."_

She tried hard to go further, to get just a little more of the memory back, as she'd tried so many times before. It had taken years to remember that much. Her spotty memory more than likely due to the effects of the drug in her system.

_"_Damn it,"she whispered bitterly, as the memory faded._"_Damn it Brooke_, think!"_

She shook her head in frustration. The next thing she remembered was nothing new. She remembered the feel of the cold water on her body, her eyes opening as the icy coolness shocked her system. She looked up at the shattered face of her best friend, who was in the shower as well. Cohen held her tightly, smiling with relief, as he saw her eyes open.

_"Thank God," he said as his voice broke. "Thank God, Brooke. I was about ready to call the paramedics."_

She had seen her dear friend at brutal crime scenes, as well as after being the victim of violent gay bashing. She had been with him the day they buried a colleague who had been shot on the courthouse steps, just inches away from Cohen himself. Nothing matched the look of horror on Cohen's face the day she woken up in the shower in his arms.

That's when she knew for certain, something very wrong had happened after John Prescott had given her that mint julep to drink.

"Miss? Miss, we're at your stop."

Malinowski looked blindly at the cabby, his words taking several second to register. Finally, the man offered her his hand, as his face grew more concerned.

"Miss is there someone upstairs, you seem-"

"I'm just tired,' she said handing the man a twenty, as he helped her out of the cab."I'll be fine, thanks."

Malinowski was still trying to fit the pieces of that day together as she unlocked the door to the loft. Once inside, she breathed a heavy sigh as she dropped her bag on the kitchen counter and turned to get a soda from the refrigerator.

"If you're thirsty, I'd be happy to make you a julep, darlin.'"


	21. Unwelcome Guest

Malinowski spun around to find John Prescott grinning at her from the living area sofa. She lunged towards the set of steak knives on the far end of the counter, as Prescott's grin evaporated. After a few swift strides he leaped towards the counter, twisting her wrist until the knife fell from her grasp.

"How did you get in here,"she demanded as she pulled her wrist away."Jesus John, for a guy so concerned about protecting his image, you sure as hell break a lot of laws! Did you ever hear of breaking and entering?"

"Now Brooke, there's no reason to over react to a friendly family visit.You'd be amazed the places a Congressman with a full wallet can get in and out of without anyone remembering him being there later."

"_You_ are not family,"she said putting the bistro table between the two of them, as she glanced around the room, looking for possible weapons."Jack's going to be here any minute to start stripping the kitchen cabinets, so-"

"Now we both know McCoy has meetings until four o'clock today," he said mockingly. "First he went to the 1 6 for a briefing from the Keller task force, then he had a lunch meeting with the commanding officer of the 2 7. Van Buren I think-"

"I told you not to concern yourself with Jack or myself. Maybe you didn't get the _point_ last time you decided to barrage into my life," she said glancing at the cut that ran across the top of his left hand.

Prescott chuckled as he leaned across the small table.

"You over reacted to a friendly massage, my dear. Look at yourself… what happened to all that confidence you used to radiate? Knives, letter openers…my God I'll bet you're too terrified to sit over there on the sofa with me and have a civilized conversation."

"Why don't you quit playing games, you son of a bitch,"she spat. "You know damn well why I don't want you anywhere near me. You have what you wanted – Keller is dead. That means Jack has no reason to focus on you or your office."

"That would be true if your lover wasn't so persistent. That man is like a dog with a bone. I'm sure you know he hasn't closed Ethan unfortunate suicide yet. As for the rest," he said as he suddenly pushed the table aside. "Why don't you tell me why you're so uncomfortable when ever were alone together, my dear?"

Malinowski fought the urge to try to dash passed him. She impatiently told herself he'd be a fool to try anything with her lucid and able to recall whatever took place. Yet she could feel her legs starting to buckle and tentatively reached for the wall behind her.

"You know John, maybe it _is_ a good thing we're here alone. Maybe being alone with me will make _you_ comfortable enough to answer a question I've had for a long time."

Prescott bowed his head as he reached out to steady her.

"Planning to rape me again," she asked bluntly as she stared down at the hand on her arm.

"Rape you," he said, as he dropped her arm as if it was on fire. "Brooke, I never took you for an emotionally disturbed woman, but when you say things like that, I have to wonder..."

Prescott's surprise gave her an opportunity to return to the kitchen without interference. Once behind the counter she felt with her foot for one of the knives that had fallen on the floor.

"You're the one with emotional problems if you think I've forgotten about that day at the house," she retorted. "You know, I've met some real slime balls being an assistant district attorney, but you take the cake. I mean, you come back into Sam's life after all but writing him off and then drug his fiancée, just so you can ...what? That's my question John, so that you can what? Rape me? Hurt him? Both? You tell me."

Prescott looked around the room and moved towards the liquor table once near the door.

"Can't I pour you a drink?"

Malinowski rolled her eyes in disbelief.

"Gee John, I think I'll pass. I'm sure you understand why."

"Brooke, I don't know what you think happened that day," he said carefully as he set the bourbon bottle down. "But I assure you anything that happened, happened because we both wanted it to."

Malinowski stared at him in disbelief, finally reaching down and picking up one of the fallen knives.

"My God. I must be an idiot. I actually thought you might have something to say that would explain what you did. You're just like every rapist I ever prosecuted. You think I _wanted_ it," she said with disgust. "Is that what you tell _all_ your victims? Is that why you…"

Prescott looked sharply at his former sister in law, seeing the realization in her eyes.

"If you think I had anything to do with what happened to Lori, you had better get that thought out of your mind girl," he said coldly. "I mean it Brooke. You may have some crazy ideas about something that happened over a decade ago, but you could do some real damage with an unfounded allegation like that one... damage to yourself, as well as to Jack McCoy. Maybe you better think about that before you decide to share that disillusion of yours with anyone other than myself."

"You know what you did to me was anything but consensual, you bastard," she replied bitterly.

She tightened her grip on the knife in her hand, as Prescott joined her in the kitchen.

"If you hadn't loved every second of it, I might be concerned with such an accusation," he responded curtly. "Maybe you'd be able to remember our lovemaking more accurately if we hadn't been interrupted that day."

"Maybe I'd be able to remember the _crime_ more accurately, if you hadn't put drugs in my drink," she countered sharply.

"Honey, we both had a lot to drink that day," he said reaching for her suddenly. "No one needed any drugs to induce either of us to take our clothes off."

"Son of a bitch," she hissed as she raised her free hand.

Prescott laughed softly as he blocked her intended blow and pulled her to him.

"You always did have a lot of fire, Brooke. Maybe that's why I couldn't wait for you to tire of my tried and true brother. Make no mistake; you would have tied of Sam. It was just a matter of time. Just like you'll tier of Jack McCoy."

"You know I loved your brother," she said angrily as she tried to break free of his embrace. "You were at the funeral, though God only knows why."

"I came to pay my respects," he said coolly. "Although you wouldn't know that, since you wouldn't get within twenty feet of me, that day. Too bad, too. I thought maybe we'd have a chance for a private reunion, after the burial was over."

"You disgust me," she said giving him a shove.

Prescott laughed as he knocked the knife out of her hand and grabbed her by the neck.

"And_ you_ amuse me, Brooke. You and that 'whole heart to one man' routine you think you do so well," he said as he pressed his lips to hers.

Malinowski's earlier fears gave way to the rage she felt; at his intrusion into her life, his easy lies, and his arrogant threats towards those she held dear. She did her best not to gag as his tongue explored her mouth, while a hand explored her body, the other pinning her to the counter. She let herself go limp, hoping to trick Prescott into thinking she had given up.

She felt his grip loosen slightly, as he laughed softly. Without warning she bit down as hard as she could, locking her jaw, as he yelped in pain and shock. She held on until she could taste the blood that had begun to ooze from his tongue. Giving him a shove she dashed out of the kitchen and to the night table across the loft.

"You bitch, you_ fucking_ little cunt," he hissed as he used his handkerchief to try to stop the flow, as he came towards her. "Who do you think you're dealing with? I'll take Sam and your precious Jack McCoy so far down-"

"Just get the hell out before you make me use this," she shouted, as she pointed the hand gun at him.

"What happened to Sam's quaint notion of not letting the bad guy's intimidate you into carrying a weapon?"

"Went out the window when I thought the bad guys had killed him. I mean it John. If you read the papers, you know I'm not bluffing."

Prescott stayed where he was. He took the cloth from his mouth and thoughtfully looked down at it.

"Stay away from me John and as far as the people I care about go? If you go after either Sam or Jack, I swear I'll expose you for what you are. I'll do what I should have done years ago-"

"And why exactly didn't you, all those years ago," he asked smugly. "You can cut the crap, Brooke. All you have on me are vague recollections and circumstantial evidence. I know you have no DNA evidence. I flushed the condom myself. Besides, if you'd had anything you were absolutely sure about, you would have gone to my brother, if not the police. "

"What label would you give today's little encounter," she sneered, "vague recollection or circumstantial evidence? I can have an SVU detective here in under ten minutes-"

"Don't sound so sure of yourself, Brooke. Nobody saw me come in and nobody will see me go out," he said smoothly as he started towards the door. "If you call anyone it will be your word against mine and I guarantee I will have an airtight alibi for our time together before the good officers leave the precinct house."

"Stay where you are."

Prescott turned to face her with a knowing look, while he reached for the door knob.

"You won't shoot an unarmed man. Even Samantha Weaver had a loaded gun. No, you won't shoot me unless you believe your life is in danger, Brooke. Part of that moral code you and Sam were so smug about, all those years ago. I came here hoping we could make this a ….amicable reunion... clearly that isn't the case. Get McCoy to close that investigation or things will be even less amicable the next time I deal with either of you."


	22. Captain Couragous

Captain Donald Cragen listened as his subordinate relied the information Brooke Malinowski had given him that morning. Cragen could hear the very real concern Logan had for the victim. He could sense the internal battle the younger man had fought before asking the SVU squad commander to come in that Saturday afternoon to meet with him regarding a lead on the Mills homicide.

"It's a tough situation," Cragen responded when Logan finished. "If the victim had filed a complaint…completed a rape kit…"

"By the time she had the presence of mind to think of it, any physical evidence had been washed down the drain," Logan countered. "The last thing she remembered was going in her bathroom to change clothes. The next thing she knew a friend had her in a cold shower, thinking she'd overdone it at her engagement party. It wasn't until she saw her attacker, a month later at her wedding, that she started to piece together…"

"And that was how many years ago?"

"Over a decade."

Cragen sighed. It was a story he had heard far too often, since he became the SVU squad commander. A victims belated accusations, no way to recover any physical evidence, no corroborating witnesses. Basically a lose lose situation, especially when the victim was accusing a public official of the wrong doing.

"Listen, Donnie, this vict is putting a lot on the line coming forward. I don't know squat about SVU, but when we worked together in homicide, you and I went above and beyond for a victim, espcially a credible victim."

"Mike, if she's so credible, why can't you give me her name," Cragen pressed. "I know you've already given one public servant a black eye – literally – but I'm not that far away from retirement. Walking a beat on Staten Island because I went after someone like Congressman Prescott on the word of a rape victim that won't even give us her name…"

Logan scratched his head, unsure of how much more he wanted to tell Cragen. While he had total faith in Don Cragen, Logan knew the more people that heard the story, the more people whose careers were in potential danger.

If the accusations had been for a straight assault or murder, Logan wouldn't have troubled his former supervisor. But with a rape case…Logan' s knowledge of how to run a rape case ended at sending the victim to get a rape kit done. He needed Cragen's expertise to know for sure whether there was something he or the victim had over looked.

"Trust me, Donnie, you don't want to hear this name," he said firmly.

"Listen Mike, I can't help you if you don't trust me, here."

"I gave her my word, Captain," Logan said quietly, as the two men's eyes met. "Not just for her protection, but for people she cares about, not to mention her concern that anyone involved in this could get burned by Prescott."

Cragen sighed. The well worn chair behind Cragen's desk creaked, as the Captain leaned back.

"I've been shinged so many times I can't even get fire insurance anymore," he older man said ironically."Come on Mike, if you really want to help this woman, spill it and maybe we can come up with something."

Logan smirked at Cragen's reassuring humor, before taking a breath.

"You know Jack McCoy's engaged, right?"

Cragen looked sharply at Logan, his eyes widening, as he rubbed his forehead.

"Aw geez, Mike. I should have seen that one coming," Cragen said as he rolled his eyes. "She was married to Prescott Junior – the federal prosecutor – right?"

"Happened at their engagement party, while the younger brother was dealing with a witness."

"Great – either the brother or McCoy know about this," Cragen grimaced when Logan shook his head. "All right. One thing I've learned down here is a rape victim – especially when the rape is years old - doesn't always realizes how much she knows. She needs the right prompts, given by the right person. I think I know someone with the right amount of experience to talk to your friend."

"Don, too many people know about this already," Logan began to protest. "Bringing one more –"

"Listen Mike, I'll talk to her myself, if you still don't like it when I tell you who I have in mind. Something else you might want to consider, since your victim says she was drugged with the same stuff found in the Mills girl's tox screen, maybe you want to talk to the DA's office about getting a warrant to search the congressmen's office and home. If he's been doing this kind thing this long, he may be cocky enough to have a large supply of the drug stashed."

"You think Novak will be pissed if I call her at home on a Saturday, instead of using the ADA on call?"

"Not on this one. We'll give her a call before you head out to Suffolk County."

Logan cocked an eyebrow and Cragen responded by shrugging his shoulders.

"Hey, it can wait until Monday and we can fill in the sheriff's office out there if you're not up to the ferry ride."

"Donnie, do you hear me complaining? I'd just like you to tell me what to do when I get there."

"That friend that found her? You got a name, right?"

"Yeah," Logan said while he flipped through the pages of his notepad,"her assistant…a guy named Cohen. Why?"

"Talk to him. If he and the victim are close enough to have kept this between the two of them this long, he might know something."

"Anything else?"

Cragen nodded, as he picked up the phone.

"Yeah. You told her you wouldn't bring McCoy into this unless you had to? That's the one thing you did wrong, Mike. The first person I'm telling about this is McCoy. The second is the ex husband."

"Come on, Captain," Logan retorted, as he closed the notepad. "Brooke's terrified of what Prescott will do if either of those two confront him."

"Which is why they need to be told by us and not find out about it from the congressman. After I track those two down, I'll call Benson and-'

'Benson?"

'Benson. Brunette, about so tall, you're temporary partner? Best detective I have when it comes to making a victim feel supported and safe."


	23. The Sins of the Brother

"Now darlin', I know you don't mean to tell me you don't think I know how to watch myself when I'm dealin' with a member of the NYPD," Sam Prescott asked his tennis partner, as they sat outside the door to Captain Donald Cragan's office.

Danielle Melnick smoothed the white cotton skirt she wearing so as to cover her knees, as a man in hand cuffs leered at her on his way to a holding cell.

"Listen, Sam. I've been a defense attorney just about as long as you were a prosecutor. Trust me when I say, I've seen too many people come in for 'routine' questioning only to find themselves charged and on a bus to Riker's before they could say 'Miranda Rights'. Just humor me on this one."

Prescott sighed and gave her a dutiful nod. One of the first things he'd learned in his time with the high powered defense attorney, was the futility of arguing with Danielle Melnick once she had her mind set to something.

"Whatever you say darlin'. Just remember who was in the lead before we left the courts. As I recall," he said playfully, while he put his arm around her shoulders, "winner gets to decide whether we go to the theater or the ACLU gala tonight."

"That was contingent on the finishing the match," she began.

"Whatever it takes, Don,"a raspy voice said as the door to Cragen's office opened."I have your word on that?"

"Whatever it takes, Jack," Melnick heard the haggard SVU chef respond. "I'll personally keep you posted."

"Jack?"

McCoy turned from Cragen to find Melnick at his side, as Prescott rose to shake his hand.

"Danielle. Sam," he responded wearily. "I assume Captain Cragen wants to speak with you?"

Prescott nodded, as McCoy made the introductions. After pleasantries where exchanged, Prescott gave Melnick a quick peck on the cheek before being ushered into Cragen's office.

"What is it Jack," Melnick asked, her concern growing as she read her friends troubled face.

McCoy spontaneously wrapped his arms around Melnick, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Oh Jack," she said softly. "Jack, how can I help?"

"Let's walk," he said hoarsely .

As Melnick took his arm, she watched McCoy impatiently reach for his handkerchief. The last time she could remember McCoy being so disraught was immediately after the body of one of his ADA's had been discovered by memeber's of the 2 7. As she watched him dry his eyes she said a silent prayer, fearing yet another ADA close to him had met with suffered a fate equally horrific as Alex Borgia's.

She waited until they left the elevator and had exited the main door of the 16th precinct before she prompted him once more. As they walked to a nearby park, McCoy told her the few facts Don Cragen shared with him about his fiancée's rape. When he had finished, his eyes were damp once more and the woman most noted for her ability to never be without words, was speechless.

Danielle Melnick had known Congressman John Prescott since he came out publicly in support of reproductive freedom in the early 1980's. As McCoy spoke, she rummaged through her memories of fundraisers, coalition meetings, and other assorted events that she had seen the Congressman attend. She searched her mind for anything she might have seen that would have tipped her off to the kind of man John Prescott was.

"Logan's sure? I mean, Jack, it's been years-"

"I don't care if it's been a century, if she told Logan Prescott touched her, it happened. Quite frankly, knowing your position on women rights, you're the last person I'd expect to question a rape victim's statement Danielle," he said with more harshness than he intended.

"Jack, I didn't mean to sound …of course I believe Brooke was assaulted," she responded as she reached a hand out to slow him down. "I just meant, it's been so long ago. Is Logan sure it was the same drug?"

"As sure as he can be with no charges filed at the time," he said guardedly."What are you getting at counselor?'

"Ethan Keller was my client Jack. He was willing to keep his mouth shut and face 15 to life when he was the one in the hot seat. If Logan can link Prescott to that crime and make it stick, Keller's good name will be cleared."

"Danielle, did it occur to you that if that animal could rape his own sister in law, he might be capable of murdering your client? I mean, my God, open your eyes! This man had another Aide gladly do time for another murder, a murder of an NYPD officer," he reminded her as his voice rose. "I realize John Prescott is the darling of the liberal press, but if you talk to your insignificant other, I'm sure Sam can tell you what the media hasn't seen-"

"I thought Keller's death was about to officially be ruled a suicide? As for Sam, the only thing he's ever said about his half brother is just that. That John is his half brother and at best they exchange a card at Christmas. Surely, if he even suspected his brother could do something so horrendous, he'd have done something about it-"

McCoy stared at Melnick in disbelief. He knew it was Melnick's nature to question whether the sky was blue, if the assertion came from McCoy's mouth. In the twenty plus years they'd known each other, debate had become the pairs way of playing with one another, in and out of the courtroom. But this time... this time McCoy wasn't in the mood to play. The idea that someone like Danielle Melnick could even think about questioning Logan's information or defending the likes of John Prescott was enough to send the DA into a silent rage.

"Jack, wait!"

McCoy increased his pace as he moved towards the curb to flag a passing cab down.

"Have Sam call me when he's done with Cragen,' he snapped as he turned to give the cabby the address for the loft.

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"Buzz his penthouse again," Sam Prescott quietly demanded of the young man behind the reception desk, unaware Danielle Melick was just steps behind him.

Although Prescott had commanded her to go back to her apartment, his tone and manner told Melnick leaving her lover to his own ends was the last thing she should do. She told her cab driver to follow Prescott's cab – promising a fifty dollar tip if they weren't spotted. When they came to a stop a few blocks from Congressman John Prescott's building, Melnick felt a sense of dread.

"I'm sorry sir, but the Congressman obviously is out for the evening," said the tux clad desk clerk. "Perhaps you would like to leave the Congressman a message?"

Prescott glared at the desk clerk who smelled of gumdrops and acne crème.

"Sonny, you're too young to even know how to spell the words I'd use in a message for that-"

"Sam," Melnick whispered as she placed a hand on his sleeve. "You won't help Brooke by making a scene. Let's go."

"I thought I told you to go home and lock the door," he said in a tone that made Melnick step back.

Prescott lowered his eyes, as he stepped away from the desk and took Melnick's hand.

"Darlin' you're not the one that deserved that," he said regretfully, while they started towards the door. "I apologize, Danielle. I just want you safe. Being anywhere near my …near John…"

Melnick nodded. The pair stood in silence as the door man flagged down a cab. Prescott looked down at the woman that suddenly seemed so small, so fragile, so in need of being protected, even if she didn't realize herself.

"You know Sam, I appreciate your concern, but I did survive an assassin's bullet not too long ago," she quietly remarked, as she felt him slip his hand in hers.

"Survived and probably wanted to defend the assassin once Jack had her charged," he said with amusement.

"That_ is_ what I do."

"And there's no question you do it well," he quipped, as they both chuckled. "Danielle Rose, sweet Danielle Rose, I love you too much to ignore what John is. To risk…"

Melnick hushed him, as she embraced him.

"So you're sure. You 're really sure? There's no doubt your brother-"

"Half brother," he snapped, immediately biting his lip. "Damn, I'm sorry, honey. No, there is no mistake. In fact, it makes sense. After that party, Brooke found an excuse to either stay close to me or, if we were scheduled to go to DC, she'd suddenly catch the flu and not be able to come. Yeah it all makes sense now."

As the cab headed towards Melnick's upper westside apartment she listened with increasing compassion for her lover while Sam Prescott told her about his half brother.

The rivalry between brothers had gone back since before Samuel Emerson Prescott had been born. After John's mother had abandoned father and son to leave the drudgery of the rural mining town for the lights Atlantic City and the promises of a charming drifter; John Prescott Senior set about to find his son a new mother. The task turned out to be easier than the hardworking miner expected, in large part, due a young widow named Sara Denton.

Sara had moved back to her hometown after losing her husband in a mining accident. She and John Sr. had grown up together and finding each unattached, were anxious to get reacquainted. Sara immediately took to the toddler that was so eager to please. A boy that had inherited his father good looks and his mother's smooth charm. It took the young boy no time at all to wrap his soon to be stepmother around his little finger.

But when a new baby was added to the family tree, things changed rapidly.

"So your parents saw this need to control in your brother early on?"

"Danielle, I know it sounds unimaginable. Believe me, I spent years trying to pretend it was just kids stuff, sibling rivalry, but something's you can't just pass off."

"Like your brother seducing your fiancée?"

Prescott shook his head and looked down at the inquisitive hazel eyes. She thought his brother had succeeded in bedazzling his Brooke. Otherwise a woman like Melnick would never use a word like 'seduce' to describe his brothers behavior.

"Danielle, I've never compared you to my former wife. But, you and Brooke _are_ a lot alike. Strong, passionate, and loyal...almost to a fault. Brooke would never let herself be 'seduced' into betraying me or any other man she gave her heart to. Neither would you. The only way John could have…he drugged her Danielle and he'll do it to you if he gets the chance."

As Melnick read between the lines of Prescott's words, a chill ran down her spine.

"Brooke wasn't the first, was she Sam?"

Melnick reached for his face, seeing the stricken look in his eyes.

"God help me, no. No, far from it."


	24. Somethings Will Never Change

When the elevator doors opened, Jack McCoy found Olivia Benson waiting on the other side of the doors. Each did a double take. McCoy remembered the striking SVU detective from a fraud case that had fatal results several years before. Benson returned McCoy's polite smile, as she extended her hand.

"Mr. McCoy, I'm assuming you got the message Ms. Malinowski left for you?"

"What happened detective," McCoy said as he nodded impatiently. "Brooke said something about a kitchen accident? I spoke with Don Cragen before I went to the loft. I assume you've talked to Brooke about her assault?"

Benson lead McCoy down the hallway. She was moved by the look of concern on the usually cool and confident prosecutor's face. Seeing McCoy obviously worried about the woman in his life reminded the SVU detective that Jack McCoy was more of a flesh and blood man than his courtroom reputation suggested.

"Your fiancee is fine. She had another visit from the Congressman and-"

"Where? When did this happen? What did that bastard-,"McCoy began, only to be silenced by Benson's glance around the crowded ward.

"If you want to be of any help to your fiancée Mr. McCoy, you're going to have to calm down," Benson said in a hushed tone, as she blocked his way. "Apparently he did nothing but make threats and a lame attempt at a come on."

McCoy glared at the detective, annoyed by what seemed like her unprofessional attitude, when she tried to suppress a snicker. He waited for the detective to compose herself, barely controlling his tongue.

"I'm sorry," she said at last. "Apparently, the Congressman fancies himself quite the ladies man. Too bad your fiancée took half his tongue out when he tried to kiss her."

"What ?!?"

Benson nodded, as a giggle escaped her lips.

"That's why I brought her down here. She drew a lot of blood, maybe enough to get some sort of DNA sample if we're lucky."

McCoy apologized to the detective, as a chuckle escaped his lips as well, as he thought of Malinowski gaining the upper hand with Prescott.

"So she's alright? Nothing else happened," he asked with obvious relief.

"Nothing physical, but his presence alone shook her up quite a bit. We spent some time talking about the incident that occurred several years ago. I don't want to give either of you false hope, Mr. Mc-"

"Jack, please."

"Jack. The few things Brooke can recall won't be enough to sustain an indictment. But, if we can locate more victims, Brooke can help us establish a pattern. Maybe in the next day or two some things might come to the surface that she hasn't thought about since that day."

"So we're at a wait and see point?"

Benson nodded regretfully, as she handed him her business card.

"I gave Brooke my card already but Jack, you know better than most how an assault can effect those closest to the victim. You also know Brooke better than anyone else. If you need anything, call me, day or night. You can reach me on my cell phone any time."

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"I should have pulled Mike Logan's tongue out of _his_ mouth," Malinowski commented as the pair entered the loft." Do you realize, in the last six hours a story I've kept to myself for nearly fifteen years has been told enough times it may end up in Sunday's_ Ledger_?"

"I'm not so sure I like the idea of your mouth and Logan's tongue being that close," McCoy replied shrewdly. "Besides, Logan isn't the one that told me. Remind me to send Don Cragen at the 1 6 a case of _New York Seltzer_ tomorrow morning."

"No scotch," she asked as she leaned against him.

McCoy shook his head.

"Scotch and the twelve steps don't mix," he said as he kissed the top of her head. "Would you like me to run you a bath and maybe start a fire? You look wiped out."

"In a minute," she said as she wrapped her arms around him.

In the whirl wind her day had been, Malinowski hadn't had a chance to give her lover's reaction to the news of the day more than a passing thought. As she gazed up into the dark eyes, trying to read his weary face while she plucked his fedora from his head.

"Hey," he wined, as he reached for his treasured possession.

Malinowski shook her head, as she playfully dropped the depression era hat on her head.

"Do I look like Ingrid Bergman in _Casablanca_?"

"Of all the gin joints, in all the cities, in the all world, she had to walk into mine," he deadpanned as he snatched the hat. "Here's lookin' at you, kid."

"God, that was awful," she said with amusement at the impromptu Bogart imitation. "But, you can be my Bogart, if I can be your Bergman?"

"Deal," he said softly, as gently kissed her lips.

McCoy could feel her body relax against his as he held her. Not wanting to push her in anyway, he lightly kissed her several times, before releasing her.

As he went to the bathroom, Malinowski glanced around the kitchen. As she filled the tea kettle and set in the stove to heat, she noted the absence of the knives in the block that rested on the counter. She remembered Benson bagging them, in spite of the fact Prescott had kept his gloves on the length of his visit.

Although disappointed Logan had been unable to keep her concerns between the two of them, she liked and trusted the SVU detective that had been sent to talk to her. Five minutes with Olivia Benson and Malinowski knew this was a woman to be trusted.

"Bath will be ready in a minute," McCoy announced as he returned to the main room. "Brooke, why don't you get ready and I'll bring your tea into you?"

Malinowski nodded as she started past him. Unexpectedly she looked up at him and reached for his hand.

"Honey, what is it," McCoy asked as he saw her eyes well up."Brooke?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't…You should have heard it from me Jack," she said regretfully. "If you want to call off… if you feel betrayed-"

McCoy could feel his own eyes tear up, as he wrapped his arms around her. As a man, he did feel a twinge of betrayal, a nagging sense of hurt that his fiancée hadn't told him about something so personal and painful herself. Yet, as a prosecutor, he knew many victims had difficulty telling their story to the man in their life. It would be especially hard when the facts where so muddled and the relationships so complex. The last thing she needed was to sense any doubt from her lover.

"I loved you this morning, I loved you when Cragen told me about the assault, and I love you right now," he whispered as he ran a hand through her hair. "Nothing will ever change that, Brooke."

"I love you too," she said quietly as she clung to him. "I love you enough to want to protect you from whatever John-"

"I've dealt with threats before, Brooke. You go, before the tub overflows. I'll bring the tea in when it's ready," he said giving her a final kiss before she left him.

McCoy turned as if to busied himself with the tea preparations. He waited until he heard the bathroom door close behind him, before reaching for the phone. The first call he made was to the Suffolk County DA; the second to Manhattan's senior executive assistant district attorney.


	25. Joining Forces

The normally calm, cool, brunette who occupied the office across the hall from EADA Mike Cutter stood in his doorway. Rubirosa's dark eyes as wide as saucers. It took the new EADA a few seconds respond to his assistant's penatrating stare.

"McCoy's on the war path,"Cutter said without looking up from the report in front of him.

Rubirosa rolled her eyes as she moved closer to the attractive man clad in a navy suit and dress shirt that remained open at the collar.

"Against who? Me? What did I do to Jack to deserve six months worth of disks and documentation to go through when you already told me we'd be working overtime every night this week to get ready for the Hobart trial?"

"Jack reassigned Hobart to Ron Carver. I already walked the files down to his assistant."

"Reassigned Hobart," Rubirosa repeated as she turned to leave.

"Connie, remember he's not just your supervisor anymore."

Rubirosa stopped dead in her tracks. Cutter smiled as he looked away, knowing his assistants face would be scarlet, just as it had been the other half dozen times he'd stepped in to keep her from confronting the new DA. Even though the McCoy had been paired up with the young ADA barely a year, the two had formed a bond that made Rubirosa more than comfortable challenging him when McCoy made, what she viewed, bad judgment call.

"But Mike, does Jack realize you and I have spent the last two months preparing-"

Cutter raised one hand, as he handed his assistant his copy of the _New York Times,_ with the other

_"_Obviously, you haven't seen the morning paper."

Rubirosa read the headline and looked sharply back at her supervisor.

"Oh no. I'd expect to see a headline like:_ Mad Dog McCoy __Manipulates the Media _in _The Ledger, _not _The__ Times_. Jack's seen this?"

"Oh yeah," Cutter said with a knowing smile. "Jack anticipated this. Trust me...he's more than prepared to fight dirty on this one. More than prepared."

Rubirosa skimmed the story beneath the headline, as she leaned against the door frame.

"Interim New York County DA, Jack McCoy is skating a fine line between investagatorial discretion and abuse of power by a public official… Mike, whose leading the charge against Jack and why?"

"Did you read the labels on any the boxes in your office," Cutter replied as he folded his hands on the desktop.

"It looks like they're all from the archives in DC... files from Congressman Prescott's office."

Cutter waited for the young woman to make the connection. He still shuttered when he recalled his conversation with the DA that weekend. In his short time as senior prosecutor Cutter had heard McCoy annoyed, had seen him backed up against more than one political wall, but he'd never heard McCoy sound as repelled, as ready for a street fight, as he had when he uttered the words that left no room for confusion in Cutter's mind.

_"…I want him taken down, Mike. I want him taken down so hard, he can't get up again."_

Across the hall, Jack McCoy was repeating the same words to Sam Prescott who nodded in agreement.

"…I know he's your brother, Sam, but if you get in the way of my investigation, I won't have a choice. I'll take you down with him."

"You don't have to make idle threats to gain my cooperation, Jack. You know how I feel about Mal," the other man said bluntly. "What he did to her…that alone is reason enough for me to help you."

"Good, because make no mistake, "McCoy continued indifferently. "I believe Brooke's assault is just the tip of the iceberg.We both know men like this don't stop with a single attack. I also believe John Prescott was an active participatant in the death of Lori Mills."

"I wish could say I was shocked or even that I don't think my half brother is capable of committing any of these crimes. But I can't, that's why I called you, Jack. Not only is it making me sick to think of what he did all those years ago to Mal, it makes me sicker that I didn't realize…that I didn't put a stop to it..."

McCoy studied the tortured face of the man across from him. Prescott looked like he'd gotten even less sleep than McCoy had the night before.

"You say that like you knew or that you suspected –"

"No," Prescott said sharply, as he met McCoy accusing stare."No, Jack. I had no idea he'd touched my beautiful…_our _precious girl. I'd have killed him myself if I'd known, which is probably why Mal never let on anything had happened."

"Brooke does tend to be protective of those she loves," McCoy agreed with a sigh. "She also has seen enough victims to know vague recollections...especially against a public figure... won't go very far legally."

"So, how can I help you?"

"From what Brooke has told me, I know you and your half brother have a history of estrangement that goes back to your childhood. You know what I'm looking for, Sam. Evidence of other crimes, any knowledge of other victims. I want as much dirt as I can find before I even think about charging him. Anything you know, that you think I could use to bury him, I need to hear."

Prescott rubbed his ear thoughtfully. McCoy immediately went on the defensive when he saw what he knew to be a telltale sign the other man was waffling.

"Damn it Sam, do you really think he's finished with her," McCoy said incredulously.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he opened the top drawer of his desk and tossed the manila file towards the other man.

"He threatened her this weekend. Read the report yourself. If you think Brooke or Danielle is safe, you won't after you read the things Brooke told Detective Benson. The man's a killer, Sam and he thinks he's going to get away with it. "

"Damn it Jack, I believe you," he said as he flipped through the pages. "I just don't want to bring harm to anyone else..."

Prescott stopped abruptly and gave McCoy a questioning gaze as he looked up from the report.

"She really did this," he asked with a chuckle.

McCoy smiled as well, while he nodded.

"My God and I used to make fun of those self defense classes she went to way back when. Did your people get any thing they can use from the mouth swab?"

"I put a rush on the lab results. I'll know by the end of business today. I'm still sending the detectives to your search your brother's place. I took care of the warrant myself."

"But Jack, if you do that…what if he does go after her again?"

"Sam," McCoy said, leaning across the desk, impatiently. "Not only do I intend to harass your brother with Brooke's breaking and entering complaint, I've subpeoned every piece of paper his office has generated in the last decade to start an investigation into corruption by his office. When I'm finished I'll have every bank record, every hint of a bribe, ready to leak to the press. Sam, If you want to keep Brooke out of harm's way, you need to tell me what you know about other victims and you need to do it now."

"There's only one way you could get warrants and subepeona's issued in break neck time like this,"Prescott said quietly."Which judge do you have in your pocket, Jack?"

McCoy defiantly set his jaw. Even if the judge who signed his subpeona and warrants wasn't a former SVU bureau chef, as well as his former wife, the last person McCoy was willing to discuss his late night call to Judge Elizabeth Donnelly with, was the man in front of him.

"All you need to concern yourself with is telling me what you know, Sam."

Prescott reached into his briefcase and handed McCoy an envelope.

"Everything you want is in there,"he said as he stood."I don't know how much help it'll be. People have moved…died…some might just be too ashamed or afraid to talk about it…but it'll give your investigators a place to start."

McCoy reached for the glasses that lay beside a stack of files on the desk. He skimmed the thick pile of pages and waited to hear the sound of the door closing behind Prescott, before he reached for the receiver.

"Linda, get me the sheriff's office in Riverton, West Virginia."


	26. Regrets and Confessions

Michael Jackowicz, the District Attorney for Suffolk County, handed her the compliant form and a pen.

"I told Jack it was your choice, Brooke. Technically, you're just shy of the statue of limitations expiring. I'll personally argue the case at trial with Clint in the second chair, if you want to go forward on the rape charge. Without a rape kit, you know the odds of a conviction, but I've got to trial with less and you are a credible victim. If nothing else, we can give the SOB a run for his money while Manhattan nails down an indictment on the Mills murder."

Malinowski read the form over and slowly she shook her head. It came as no surprise to her that her boss for almost two decades would throw the full support of his office behind one of his own. Support that, although she deeply appreciated, she knew would only result in one more district attorney finding his career on the line.

"We both know it's too little, too late," she said while tearing the form in half. "Let's keep the focus of this office on cases we have a chance of winning and victims that need our help. Tying up the DA and two senior prosecutors for months with an unwinnable case won't serve the people's interests."

The Santa like figure handed her the file in front of him.

"Jack faxed the Manhattan SVU report to me this morning. Maybe you'd like to hold onto that yourself. I hate to let this go Brooke. What that man did was-"

"I know. But the focus needs to be on the Mills girl now. Hopefully my statement gave Jack enough probable cause to get a warrant to search John's place"Brooke said as she stood to leave."That's a start."

Jackowski stood as well and walked with his ADA towards the door.

"You know, the three of us...we go back a long way. We both know this has to be killing Sam. You also know beneath that soft spoken country boy charm of his is a man that wouldn't think twice about doing real time, if he thought going after his brother would help to make things right for you."

"Yeah, I know that. I spoke to Danielle Melnick...Sam's girlfriend...this morning. I promised her I'd talk to Sam tonight, when I get back to Manhattan."

Malinowski had been surprised to receive the call on her way to the train that morning. Although she and Melnick had gotten on well the few times they had been thrown together since Melnick had started seeing Sam Prescott, the two were far from confidants. When Melnick told her of Prescott's angry visit to the Congressman's townhouse the night before, Malinowski blamed herself for not anticipating such a reaction.

"Sam's girlfriend," the DA repeated softly. "My God, times really are a changin', aren't they?"

Malinowski shrugged her shoulders.

"Come on Michael, you show your age when you start quoting song lyrics that are older than Cohen," she said with a chuckle.

"All right," the Jackowski said with a chuckle, while opening the door. "If you can crack wise, I suppose you'll survive or at least hold your own, in court this afternoon. Do me a favor and come see me before you head back to the city."

"Sure thing. Maybe I'll have some good news after closing arguments," she said as she walked through the door way and into the arms of Sam Prescott.

Malinowski smiled awkwardly at her estranged husband as they both took a few embarrassed steps back from each other. She bit back an amused greeting once the look on Prescott's face registered.

"'Mornin' Mal. Jake tells me your calendar's free until twelve. You mind givin' me a few minutes?"

Malinowski took the arm he offered and walked him passed her office towards the main door. After briefly ducking her head into her assistant's office to tell Cohen her whereabouts for the next half hout or so, the pair walked out the double doors and towards a bench just outside the building.

As she sat beside him, Malinowski gave her husband a discreet appraisal. His appearance was disheveled. The pale dress shirt, black dress trousers and matching vest all looked like they'd been slept in. The light brown locks were matted and mangled. His eyes drawn and darkened by the circles underneath them.

"Samuel Emerson Prescott you look like absolute hell," she said softly as she opened her arms to offer him a hug.

"I can't believe you can stand the sight of me, much less are willing to..." he began, as his voice started to shake.

"Sam, don't be an idiot,"she said tenderly, as she put her arms around him."Come here and stop talking nonsense."

"Darlin' I'm sorry I failed you…again."

"And here I thought_ I_ failed _you_," she replied sadly as she ran a hand through his hair."I should have told you, when I started to remember. It just…it took so long to remember _anything_. When it started to come back, I didn't want to believe it. For a long time I _didn't_ believe it. I thought between the heat and the liquor I'd just passed out and maybe dreamed it. But Jake...he knew. He knew before I put it together."

Prescott nodded, unsurprised. During the time they had been married, Prescott had seen the bond between his wife and her assistant only grow stronger. Prescott had compared the connection to that of twin siblings.

"I swear, if Jake hadn't been living with Kevin, I'd have accused you two of having an affair," he said with a chuckle.

"If Jake had eyes for the ladies, you'd never have had a chance with me. But alas, Jake and I weren't meant to be,"she said with a wink.

"Maybe you would have been better off with Jake,"he responded as leaned back and rubbed his eyes.

"Sam, we'd both be better off if you'd tell me what's hurting you so."

Malinowski knew Prescott was the kind of man who would see any harm that came to the woman in his life as a failing on his part. Something was his job to prevent. But, studying the hollow face, she could see there was something more. Something she couldn't put her finger on, something that was tearing him up inside.

She lifted his chin with her hand until his eyes were level with hers.

"I know you and John were separated after your parents died. You went to Georgia and he went to live with his mother. You always talked like it was the distance when you were younger that started the rift between you. That later the ethical compromises he made as a politician deepened the rift as you two moved in different directions as men."

"Well, that's not entirely true," he said with a heavy sigh. "It took the authorities almost a year to locate John's mama. My aunt finally hired a private detective after… she only did that after she realized how troubled John was. She'd been a single gal all her life. She had her hands full lookin' after me. John was too much…just too much...after he got into trouble."

"After he got into trouble,"she repeated softly,as she held his pain filled gaze.

Asking what kind of trouble seemed reduntant: They both all ready knew the answer. Malinowski chose to ask a more important question.

"Who'd he rape Sam," she asked softly.

"When we moved to Atlanta I didn't make a very smooth adjustment," Prescott began as his eyes drifted away from her."Going from life in a one horse minin' town to life in 'The New South' was pretty overwhelming for a fourteen year old. Little girl in my math class... Felicity Faraday...she'd just lost her father in a car accident. When she heard about my parents dyin', she took me under her wing, so to speak."

"High school sweethearts," she gently prompted.

Prescott shook her head, as he smiled faintly.

"Aw hell Mal, I was so shy back then, it was all I could do just ask a girl for a pencil at school without stammerin' for twenty minutes. Until Filly. We we're alot like you and Jake are. We had our little secrets... had our secret hidin' places too. If my aunt couldn't find me for dinner, all she had to do was send John over to the Faraday place and nine times out of ten we we're busy doin' nothin' in her playhouse out back. She was a few years older... the classes were based on ability not age and I was pretty sharp with figures back then… sixteen years old and she still loved that old playhouse."

"She sounds like a real sweet girl Sam," she said taking his hand.

Malinowski had interviewed enough family members and witnesses during her rotation in the sex crimes division that she knew the quickest way to get Prescott through his story was to let him tell it at his own pace. She tried to keep him moving forward with gent prodding and reassurances.

As a woman who knew the misery opening up such a deep and painful memory would bring him, Malinowski felt almost ashamed by her deliberate attempts to keep him from faltering. As a prosecutor and as well as a victim, she knew she had to do whatever she could to get the murdering predator off of the streets as quickly as possible.

She gave his hand a squeeze, causing his gaze to return to her, and carefully wiped the tears from his eyes.

"John knew how special she was to you, didn't he?"

"You know that's why he did it," he said bitterly. "That why he went after you,too. That's why he… he was always so damned jealous. Not that I ever understood why. He was older...almost eighteen...when he hurt Felicity. Tall, handsome... he always seemed so confident…"

"You know how it is when a kid is abandoned Sam,especially when a mother leaves. You told me yourself how obsessed he was with your Mother."

"Yeah, he loved Mama," he said as he rubbed his eyes. "Just adored her. Used to spend hours up in the hills findin' wild flowers for the bouquets he used to make her. Maybe if Mama and Pa had …maybe if I hadn't come along-"

"When John attacked your friend, you were fourteen. Honey, none of this is your fault. Felicity didn't blame you either, did she Sam?"

Prescott squeezed her hand as he gave her a knowing look.

"I wasn't fourteen when he hurt you. I wasn't fourteen a few months ago, either."

Malinowski did a double take, as her eyes widened in surprise.

"A few months ago," she asked, mystified by his remark. "Sam, if you're talking about the settlement…your wanting to keep our house… It was natural for you to want to hold on to as much of the past as you-"

"I manipulated you and we both know it," he said averting his eyes from her. "When I told you about my second marriage, I could see you howconfused you were. I never should have…God, how can I condemn John when did the same thing-"

"Sam, you didn't _drug_ me! You sure as hell never _raped_ me," she said in disbelief.

"We both know you'd made your decision about me and the marriage weeks before," he in a whispered, his voice hoarse and halting. "I heard you call out for Jack, but I didn't care. I wanted what I wanted and I never stopped to think about what it would cost you."

Malinowski stared at her former husband hearing his words, yet unable to comprehend them. Although the circumstances surrounding her decision to make love with him had been emotional and ill thought out, she had blamed only herself for letting it happen.

"Sam, I was still your _wife_-"

"You were my _wife_, not my _possession_. I'll never forget the look on your face afterwards. What I did was worse than anything John could ever do. It was worse because I was your husband."

"You act as if I had no say. Sam, I mourned you for years," she said as she took both his hands in hers. "Yes, I love Jack. But, I'd be less than honest if I didn't admit part of me wanted to be with you again. Yes, I was a mess because I let it go too far…I felt like I had used you and betrayed Jack...but I never blamed _you_."

"Well, maybe you should have," he said as he abruptly stood and started to leave.

"Oh, no you don't," she snapped and she dashed to catch him."Don't you_ dare_ make me feel like more of victim than I already do!"

Prescott swung around looking as if he'd been slapped in the face.

"We're all responsible for the choices we make," she shouted, ignoring his stricken expression. "Are you saying I didn't have free will? That I didn't know what I was doing? That I'm so unstable that I can't think for myself?"

"'Course I'm not sayin' anythin' like that, I just meant-"

"I know what you meant and you are not the criminal here,"she said impatiently."I know you feel like hell about that day and so do I. But Sam, what we did we did as willing participants. Neither of us can change what happened between us, but you have the power to give Lori Mills and maybe women like your freind Felicity some closure, if you're willing to focus on the real crimes that have been comitted and not our personal drama."

A smile slowly formed on Prescott's lips and he shook his head.

"You can take the wife out of the prosecutor, but you can't take the prosecutor out of the wife," he said with a low laugh. " I guess I am beatin' around the bush aren't I, girl? 'Be gentle, but firm. Always keep the witnesses movin' forward?' Guess that rotation you did in sex crimes taught you a thing or two."

"Sorry," she said with a shrug. "I know it's not an easy story for you to tell."

"Not an easy one for you to hear either, darlin'. All right, there had been some less obvious incidents back in West Virginia. I gave Jack a list of those this mornin'. With Felicity…well, John managed to convince me I was needed at church. That Aunt Krystal had asked him to come find me to help move some heavy items for the church bizarre that weekend. It was a five miles ride on the bike. He knew I'd be gone long enough…he knew Filly was waitin' for me. He knew her mama was with my aunt at church. He brought her some 'special lemonade," Prescott said, spitting the words out as if they were bitter fruit. "She was a nice little church girl. She had no idea she was drinkin' liquor."

"No one pressed charges?"

Prescott shook his heads impatiently.

"It may have been the "New South" down in Atlanta, but the old double standardwas alive and well. Besides, any good defense attorney would have broken her on the stand. She was so out of it…when she came too she couldn't remember much. Couldn't be sure when John left…whether he was the one that actually… He of course, made sure there wasn't any physical evidence."

"Sounds like his M.O. But Sam, if there wasn't…if your aunt didn't know for sure John was Felicity's attacker... why did your aunt send him away?"

For a brief moment the misery in Prescott's face was replaced by a look of satisfaction.

"My Aunt Krystal had a heart as big as the Atlantic. She wanted to do right by John. But, that woman was sharp. she was sharp and knew when to cut her losses. Krystal Jamerson didn't need DNA evidence to know a scoundrel when she saw him. I just wish she'd still been alive when I met you, Mal. Aunt Krystal would have seen to it I didn't make the same mistake twice. She's of seen to it you were never alone with that son of a bitch, I call a brother."


	27. Score One for the Good Guys

"I'll have your badges, along with McCoy's ass for this," Congressman John Prescott announced as Logan and Benson instructed a team of uniformed officers to begin a search of the Congressman's New York penthouse.

"Just following orders, Congressman," Benson said indifferently while she handed him a search warrant.

"Benson, I'm taking these guys upstairs, "Logan said as he started up the staircase.

As much as Olivia Benson longed to be away from the cool, arrogant man that hovered a little too closely, she let Logan go without an argument. Brooke Malinowski was a likeable victim and it clear to Benson that Logan would like nothing better than an excuse to harass the man that had raped her. Given the fact it was common knowledge why Logan had already done one stint out on Staten Island, Benson decided on the ride over to play it safe and keep as much distance between the two men as possible.

"What exactly are you people looking for," the Congressman demanded.

"It's all in the warrant," she commented as Benson followed the uniforms into the study."Everything comes down. Books, disc's –"

"You're looking for _drugs_," Prescott said incredulously as he shook the warrant at Benson. "What does McCoy think, that he's going to find evidence to railroad me on a drug charge? Concoct some story that I'm part of a drug cartel to weave in with these ludicrous allegations of rape and murder?"

"Listen Congressman, all I know is the DA has evidence Miss Mills was drugged at the time of her death-"

Prescott gave Benson a scathing look as he tossed the warrant on his desk.

"This has nothing to do with the death of Lori Mills. This has to do with the ravings of my emotionally disturbed former sister in law."

Benson bit back a snicker as she noted about the distintive lisp she heard in his voice. A impairment she was certain was caused by the damage Malinowski had done to Prescott's tongue the day before.

"What do you find so funny detective," he demanded. "I don't know what she told you or Jack McCoy, but Brooke Malinowski is the one who should be up on charges. I have half a mind to call the Chef of Detectives and-"

"Liv we've got something."

The pair followed the sound of Logan's voice to the guest bedroom., where Logan stood holding a plastic bag that held an envelope whose lreturne address was partially intact.

"_Interpharm_ ," Logan said smugly holding the envelope under Prescott's nose. "That wouldn't be an internet pharmaceutical supplier would it Congressman? A company that sells drugs like hydronmymocine?"

Benson took the plastic bag from Logan and studied the shinged edges of its contents.

"Where'd you find it Mike?"

"The fireplace in the guest bedroom. One of the uniforms ran a broom up the chimney."

"Millions of people order prescriptions from online pharmacies," Prescott said indifferently. "I'm a busy man. I don't have time to run to the drug store every time I need sleeping pills."

"Sure…and I suppose you don't have time to take the trash out, so you burn all your discarded paper," Logan said sarcastically as he flipped his cell phone open.

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For the better part of ninety minutes, Jack McCoy watched the interview progress from the other side of the glass with Captain Donald Cragen at this side. Mike Cutter and Casey Novak had both done an exemplary job with a difficult suspect. As McCoy watched Novak skillfully craft opened ended questions that were posed with the highest degree of professionalism, yet were provocative enough to make the accused rapist/murderer ache to indirectly boast of his crimes and show his skill at evading prosecution of those crimes, he felt a twinge of guilt.

It hadn't even been a week since the DA had dressed down his senior ADA for sex crimes after receiving a phone call from his old friend Judge Walter Bradley about Novak's ourtroom performance. The phone call was enough to give McCoy serious misgivings about Novak's objectivity. Then he recieved a copy of a complaint that at was never signed for an incident at Novak's apartment five years prior. the two incidents were enough to send McCoy's blood pressure up the scale and his temper into action.

When he confronted Novak, he'd begun the tirade as one professional to another. When he heard about '…the cuts and bruises' on her face and neck that he fiancess had given her, he felt his professional facade begin to slip away. He could feel his eyes widen and his jaw tighten as the image of his mother as a young woman flickered in his consciousness.

Common sense told him Casey Novak was _not_ another Mrs. John James McCoy Senior. That hers was truly was a one shot situation with an emotionally ill fiancée, Novak had the good sense to get out of her life. But, looking into her compassionate gaze, he couldn't help feel what he always felt, when he heard of any woman being abused by the man in her life.

As a man, he wanted to shake her and make her promise she would stay away from this monster forever. As her boss, all he could do was demand she remember what side of the aisle she sat on and not let personal bias effect her ability to do her job.

Watching her with John Prescott, McCoy was confident no personal bias would be shown with this defendant. At least not by Novak.

_What an arrogant hypocrite_, McCoy thought._ If I had my way, the son of a bitch wouldn't even make to arraignment without him having a fatal 'accident' in one the shower rooms at Rikers._

"I hate to say it, but if he doesn't break soon, where gonna lose our race with the clock," Cragen said wearily. "Prescott's going to either lawyer up or the West Virginia authorities are going to hit you with an extradition order if they can confirm the allegations against him there."

McCoy knew the SVU commander was correct. The list Sam Prescott had given him had been akin to a double edged sword. Names of young women who at the time of their assaults were minors, meaning no statute of limitations would apply to those crimes. If victims could be found, charges could be filed and those statements used to help McCoy's people build their case. However, any DA worth their salt would push to get Prescott back into their own jurisdiction for trial.

The search of the house had given McCoy enough for an indictment for conspiracy to commit murder. Once the police had researched the envelope they had found, it was easy to find the computer trail that led to Prescott's history of orders for a steady supply of the date rape drug.

"If West Virginia had the death penalty I'd gladly let this one go," McCoy said more to himself than Cragen.

As much as he wanted his own personal vengeance satisfied, McCoy knew unless new evidence turned up in a hurry in was unlikely he would be able to make more than the lesser charge of possessing a narcotic stick in court.


	28. The Story of Jack's Boat

Brooke Malinowski handed her fiancée the last of the kitchen cabinet doors. As McCoy set the door against the wall beside the others, Malinowski glanced around the cluttered counter and bistro table until her eyes fell on the roll of sand paper beside McCoy.

"Gimme," she demanded as she pointed to the roll, as she stepped off on the ladder.

"Knock yourself out," he said placing the roll in her hand. "But I have to warn you before we start, this is going to make gutting the bathroom tile look like child's play. You're a hundred percent sure you want to move to Manhattan and stay here awhile after the divorce is final?"

"Getting cold feet all ready," she teased as she came around to his side of the counter and put her arms around him. "Maybe you should of thought about backing out of the engagement before we redid the bathroom. You know you'll never be happy with that dinky shower stall you have at your place, now that you've put that monster shower in here."

"You finally figured out my real motive for wanting to marry you," he said with a smirk. "I just meant I've found the kitchen to be the most extensive room to remodel. You really want to be sure this is what you want before you put the time and effort into appliances, counters, cabinets, not to mention-"

"I know," she said with a nod. "I haven't forgotten the elbow grease it took to get the kitchen right at the old place. You think we need to slow down and looks at some other places before we jump too far into this one?"

McCoy shrugged his shoulders, as Malinowski pulled more supplies off the sofa to make room for them to sit. He knew what the Manhattan real estate market looked like. Glancing around the loft, he confirmed what he'd already known: In spite of the sporadic elevator service, the pluses far outweighed the minuses with a property so close to downtown.

"Hey, what's this doing here," she asked as she pulled the model boat that peeked out of one the boxes marked 'office' that sat beside the sofa.

McCoy took the model sail boat from her and sat beside her.

"Jack, I thought that was staying at the office?"

"It was," he said as he thoughtfully studied the small ship. "I must have brought the wrong box home the other night. I've been preoccupied lately."

"I didn't think you'd hold him long," she said softly, well aware of how distracted her lover had been since John Prescott's bail hearing.

"He slipped with the drug, he'll slip with something else," McCoy said firmly. "I just hope it's before we hear from West Virginia."

Malinowski rested her head against his shoulder. As much as she hoped for a quick resolution to the Mills girl's death, she'd known that would be too much to expect. Once Prescott had requested a lawyer, it had taken him less than an hour to be released.

For a week after the arrest, the papers had served as a guide of the battle between the Manhattan DA's office and the office of Congressman Prescott. McCoy's well known history with his assistants had found it way back into the headlines. Prescott's possession of the date rape drug and the implications of him having it had been 'leaked' as well. The longer things stayed as they were, the more mud that was going to become harder to wash off would be thrown.

"Tell me about the boat," she said as she looked up into McCoy's world weary eyes.

"I thought you wanted to strip cabinets," he said surprised of her abrupt change in focus.

"I'm going to marry you. I want to know everything there is to know about Jack McCoy. The good, the bad, and everything in between," she said hoping to at least briefly distract him from the dark cloud known as John Prescott.

"Well, _The Ledger_ has done a good job reminding you of the bad," he said sarcastically.

Malinowski rolled her eyes as she rumpled his hair.

"No pity party, McCoy. It's not like they came up with anything new. Now, are you going to satisfy my curiosity or do we start stripping cabinets?"

McCoy remembered when he and his first wife had tackled the cabinets in their beach front home. Even twenty years later, McCoy could feel his back tighten at the memory.

"The boat is a replica of the one that I saw as a kid every summer when I went to the lake," he said at last.

"A sailboat on Lake Michigan," she said thoughtfully. "Was that unusual?"

"Oh no," he assured her as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders. "The lake is huge. All kinds of boats on it after the ice melted. A lot of the kids from the neighborhood used to go over to the lake to look for work to make some spending money. One year the man that owned a boat like that paid me to wash it down."

"Sounds like he made an impression on you."

McCoy nodded.

"He was the first lawyer I met. Years later, when I was senior in high school, my father took me down to the DA's office and I met some of the ADA's he'd worked with over the years. But this man was a corporate lawyer for a downtown firm. When he found out my Dad was a beat cop that wanted his son to go to law school and eventually become a judge, he was impressed. He had something for me to do every weekend that summer. Eventually he took me and my friends out on the water a couple of times. He encouraged me to pursue my father's dream."

"Wow," she said carefully taking the boat from his hands, "you and your friends must have been in heaven. We're both children of the working class, Jack. I didn't know anyone when I was a kid that could afford something like this. I'll bet you didn't either."

"Oh you're right there. To have a guy like that not only trust me with cleaning his boat... but to take it out with me…to let me take the wheel," he said with amazement. "It was a bigger rush than the first time I rode a motorcycle. By the time summer came and went, I was convinced I wanted a law degree, so I oculd go to work for_ Hanratty, Milscow, __& Becker_."

"Which one was he?"

"He was Hayden Hanratty," McCoy said as he sat back and grinned at her stricken expression. "Yes Brooke, the Hayden Hanratty that was indicted on embezzlement and fraud charges about the time I took the bar exam."

Malinowski shook her head as she set the ship on the table.

"Jack I was a teenager then and I remember the case," she replied. "It was a huge scandal. He lost everything. I don't understand why-"

"After that first summer, up until Hanratty was found guilty, my goal was to get my law degree any way I could. That included letting my father think I planned to work my way up to a judgeship by starting out in the DA's office after law school. My real goal was to get that degree, go to work for Hanratty and earn enough money in the first five years to buy my own sailboat."

Malinowski understood immediately. As much as they both were proud of working for what they'd gotten, for getting through law school on scholarships and part time jobs, they had both seen the other side of life in law school. Finding out there was more to life than confession, working hard, and starting a family opened up a new world for kids from working class families.

Although she knew McCoy loved his career in the DA's office more than he probably loved any woman, including her, Malinowski could see a young Jack McCoy wanting more than a civil servants job and a life filled with criminal case laws.

"Big change of plans for you when the firm closed and your hero was sentenced to fifteen to twenty five."

McCoy chuckled.

"I got over it."

"Okay," she said as she shifted to fully face him on the sofa. "You found out the emperor had no clothes, that your hero was a villain. So why did this sailboat sit in your office for all those years?"

McCoy gave her a roguish smile, as he stood and moved towards the refrigerator.

"You're going to marry me. You think you know the kind of man I am...you tell me," McCoy said mischievously.

Malinowski sighed. She'd been successful in her goal: McCoy seemed to have John Prescott completely out of his mind for the first time in almost a month. But that success didn't decrease her desire to keep him from having the upper hand with her.

She picked up the model again, carefully studying the design details. The boat was a beauty. If one looked closely enough it wasn't hard to see through the tiny windows into the lower deck. It was an area that in a real boat would easily have accommodated several overnight guests and a good sized galley.

"Well, for starters, a sailboat for a city boat would probably be akin to a bachelors dream house," she said shrewdly. "Impress any girl from Damien Street into your arms, as well as your cabin."

"A very small part of the equation," he said as he pulled out a carton left over from the take out they had eaten the night before. "Every guy thinks it would be great to live on a boat."

"All right. You keep it as a reminder," she said, grinning as McCoy nearly dropped the carton. "See what happens when you get smug on me."

"Lucky guess," he retorted as he slipped the carton into the microwave.

Malinowski sighed as she joined him in the kitchen.

"You doubt my unusually keen powers of observation? Yee have little faith."

"You're stalling, my girl," he said lightly kissing the top of her head.

"An arrogant man such as your self would need reminding, especially early on in his career," she said half bluffing, half sensing the answer. "That boat represents not only lost dreams but corruption, doesn't it Jack?"

"Son of bitch," he whispered, making not attempt to conceal his shock. "No one's ever come close to..."

"Maybe that's because this time you've found your soul mate, Jack McCoy," she said with a knowing smile.

"I can't disagree with that, counselor," he said before bending down to kiss her.

Malinowski smiled up at him, after the kiss. It always pleased her when she saw McCoy lower his guard, rare as those moments were. The wonder she saw in his eyes just made her all the more certain a marriage with Jack McCoy would be a successful, if not adventurous.

"That boat represents the struggle between greed and charity, between ethics and corruption. You chose the DA's office shortly after Hanratty went to prison. You stayed on that path the rest of your career. You saw early on the role wealth and power play in corruption. That's probably why you stayed an EADA as long as you did instead of throwing your hat in the ring when Adam or Nora left. My God, Arthur had to strong arm you into taking a job where you're more politician than attorney."

McCoy stared down at her until the sound of the microwave timer going off brought him back to reality.

"Anyone ever tell you your fortune lies in mindreading?"

"Only defendants. Over the years, they've told me that and so much more," she replied with amusement. "So I assume that comment means I am right about the boat?"

"Maybe not the words I'd use, but the sentiment, is the right one," he admitted. "You make it sound much nobler than it is, Brooke. Yeah, when I look at the boat I see what 'monitary success' cost Hayden Hanratty and I am reminded things aren't always as they seem. But still, there's apart of me…"

McCoy smiled as a faint giggle escaped his fiancées lips.

Malinowski raised an eyebrow as she shook her head.

"Part of you still wants '_the boat'_?"

"I suppose that's the part that makes me arrogant enough to dressdo wn an idealist like Casey Novak."

Malinowski's eyes widened with surprise, as she touched his cheek.

"No Jack; that's what makes you the _realist_ that gives idealists like Casey Novak _the luxury_ of their romantic optimism in a world that has more than enough evil to destroy them."

"A world with more than its share of John Prescott's," he continued as they divided the remaining hot and sour pork. "Brooke, I hate to say it, but chances are good West Virginia will beat us to a felony indictment."

"I'm not surprised. We both know even with his little visit here a few weeks ago, there isn't enough to prove rape, attempted rape…even the B& E is my word against his," she said with a sigh. "Too bad there wasn't enough of a sample to get anything substantial with that mouth swab."

"Yeah, but at least you gave him something to remember you by," McCoy said with a wink.

"I'd be happier if I could have made him forget about the both of us," she countered.

"I've dealt with Prescott before and a whole lot of others like him," McCoy replied with a grimace. "To be honest, I wouldn't mind so much handing the case off if another state had as solid case and could ensure a conviction, especially of it were a death penalty state."

Malinowski nodded in agreement while she finished the last of the food on her plate.

"I know it would be hard on Sam to see it," she said as she took their empty plates into the kitchen. "But I think even he'd agree it's better than John is locked up. Not only to keep him from being free to rape at will, but to keep him from running for elected office and influencing the power structure in this country. I mean my God, he wants to be _president_."

"Sadly West Virginia hasn't had a death penalty in some time, plus the chances of getting a victim to file a complaint after so many years-"

"Georgia has a death penalty," she interjected as she slipped the plates into the dish washer.

McCoy looked at her blankly, not seeing the connection between her statement and the subject at hand.

"Jack. Georgia? The Fairchild girl?"

"I'm sorry Brooke, are you talking about one of your cases or-"

"Jack," she said sharply, "I'm pre menopausal, _not_ pre Alzheimer's! I'm talking about the rape John committed after he and Sam moved in with Sam's aunt after their parents died?"

McCoy shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"I didn't think_ I_ was pre Alzheimer's either, until now. I don't remember hearing about a rape in Georgia."


	29. Temper's Flare

Sam Prescott's disbelief was obvious as he stared across the bistro table at his former wife.

"Maybe you didn't hear me," she said clearly frustrated. "I said, 'I thought you of all people would want justice for that woman.' Am I _wrong_ Sam?"

Prescott bit his tongue, hoping to avoid responding with words he had never before dreamed of saying to his soon to be former wife. Malinowski sat back in her chair and shook her head.

They had been debating for nearly two hours. The two of them were alone in the loft. Danielle Melnick and Jack McCoy had taken refuge few blocks away. slipping out to pick up lunch for the group, asd their partners continued to battle.

"I heard you. I just can't_ believe_ what I heard," he responded, his voice trembling with rage. "You 'spect me to open it all back up again. Make her relive that hell, for _wh__at?_ The off chance Georgia will reopen the case and send John to the gas chamber? To put an end to the snipin' that's been goin' on in the paper between my brother and Jack-"

"This is about getting justice for _all_ of your brother's victims, anyway we can," she said with equal emotion. "This isn't about a nasty column in _The __Ledger__ !"_

_"_The hell it's not," he said accusingly. "Damn it Brooke, you know I'd do anythin' change what he did…to take back what happened to you and the others. But _you_ know why this is _really_ important to you and I can't believe you of all people could lack the compassion…could have the gall to ask me to do this…to do this …to ask this of not only me, but a woman that's spent her adult life havin' to get over-"

"I'm asking you to do this _for_ her Sam! You can't protect-"

"Damn you Brooke, you're askin' me to do this for _you,_ so you can help Jack ," he shouted. "Don't lie about it. Not to me. Most of all, don't lie to yourself."

Malinowski's eyes were wide and shiny as she watched Prescott walk across the room to the picture window that overlooked the passing traffic. In all their tears as husband and wife,Malinowski couldn't remember a single time Prescott had raised his voice in anger towards her, much less made such cutting accusations.

When she realized Prescott had omitted the name Felicity Fairchild from the list he'd given McCoy, she knew to expect resistance when she confronted him about it. She called Prescott the same evening. She explained that she and McCoy had questions about the list and asked if Prescott and Melnick would mind coming by the loft the next day to answer them. From the moment she had asked why he declined to give McCoy information about the Georgia assault, her former husband had been evasive and eventually hostile.

She remained at the table and turned her chair so she could face the figure that was stared blindly out the window.

"First of all, I'm not denying I'd do anything I could to spare Jack pain; especially pain he doesn't deserve," she said softly, as she tried to stop the tears. "He's a good man and I love him Sam. I'd never deny that to you or anyone else. Secondly, when you told me about Felicity, you made it clear how special she is to you. A woman that special is probably stronger than you give her credit for, Sam. Don't you think she should be given the power to make a decision about this herself?"

"When I told you, I told_ you. _Mal. My wife, my friend. Not the New York County District Attorney's fiancée," he said coldly. "Should we have any future conversations, I'll be sure to preface them with that disclaimer."

"God damn it Sam what the hell is wrong with you!"

Malinowski's chair hit the floor as she jumped up.

"That's a question I could ask you as well."

Malinowski stormed up to him and tried to turn him to face her.

"You know damn well I didn't deserve that. That son of a bitch raped me Sam and _yes_ I want him dead. I know he's your brother, but, my God –"

Finally he let her swing him around. She stepped back seeing a frightening look on the face she thougt she knew so well.

"You think this is about saving _him_?!? My God how _stupid_ can you be, woman? I told you it's about her damn you," he said as he took her by the arms and started to shake her. "Why can't you get that through you thick head? It about_ her_ and not letting anyone take more of her life away from her than they have!"


	30. The Truth comes Out

"You pull something like that again and Jack will have a Prescott in Sing Sing all right and he won't care if it's the wrong one," Danielle Melnick said an hour later as she brought a bottle of brandy and two glasses out to the terrace of her apartment.

"I still can't believe I lost control like that," Sam Prescott whispered.

"It happens. If it didn't I'd have a lot less clients," Melnick said as she wrapped his shaking hands around the glass of brandy. "Now, just sip it. Don't down it Sam or it'll go right to your head."

Melnick eased herself into the chair beside her lover. She watched as he carefully brought the glass to his lips and she silently thanked God for the fast reflexs that had helped her get Sam Prescott out the door and passed Jack McCoy before either man could think to do damage to the other.

When she and McCoy came through the front door of the loft, it took her all of two seconds to process the look of rage on Prescott's face, the stunned expression on his former wife's face as he shook her, and the tightening of Jack McCoy's jaw. Within seconds she had dashed across the room, grabbed Prescott's hand and shoved him into the elevator.

The cab ride to her place was a blur of regretful words and reassuring squeezes of hands and shoulders that were alternately feverish and frigid. By the time she had got him into her apartment she knew the topic of the battle, but little more. After she assured herself the trembling in his hands had lessened, she gently eased the glass on to the wooden table top and pressed his hand inside of hers.

"Sam, you don't have to tell me," she said, forcing herself to keep her tone level and free of emotion. "But if you do I want you to know, this not only stays here because I love you, it also can come under the heading of attorney client prevailage."

"What," Prescott said, startled by her words. "Danielle why would I need-'

"I'm just letting you know, if there's a reason…If Brooke decides to file assault charges …"

"Oh God. What the hell did I do," he said incredulously as he stood.

"Listen, from what I saw and the little you said, I doubt it will be a problem. But if Jack wants leverage to get you to discuss this Fairchild woman-"

"The last thing I'd be thinkin' about right now if I were in Jack's shoes, would be leverage," Prescott remarked as he stared down at the evening traffic. "I'd be thinkin' about puttin' the SOB who had his hands on the woman I love into a wooden box."

Melnick sighed as she took a long swallow of her drink, before joining him by the railing. She knew he was probably closer to McCoy's true feelings than either of them knew. She also knew it was just a matter of time before the knock on the door or the phone call demanding an explanation came.

"Sam, you told me about what happened to Felicity when you were young. But, you didn't tell me what happened to her later," Melnick said in the same calm, steady voice, she used when trying to get a client to trust her. "Did you two keep in touch afterwards? Do you know what happened to her?"

Prescott turned to face her, as he nodded.

"Are you really sure you can keep this to yourself if I tell you?"

"Sam I've kept secrets for Nazi skinheads, do you really think I'd try to trick you into-"

Prescott held up an impatient hand.

"Trick me? 'Course not. But sweet Danielle Rose, even with the best of intentions, you and Jack go way back and these are horrifying things my brother did. I don't want to take advantage of your kindness and put you in a position you will regret."

"Sam, I'd trust you with my life," she said firmly. "I already trust you with my heart."

Prescott's face softened as he pulled her into an embrace.

"Oh darlin' I feel the same way about you," he said with a heavy breath. "Felicity Fairchild in now the wife of the Reverend Jefferson Dalton. Jack won't be able to track her down for awhile. She's been using her middle name – Faye - since she went off to college, might have even changed it legally."

Melnick had heard both names before. The Dalton's were heavy hitters in the Southern Baptist church. Jefferson Dalton one of the pastors to the last four presidents, Faye Dalton a prominent figure, not only in church affairs as as an advocate for children's rights, as well. It would take more than being the victim of a childhood rape to tarnish the image of such a woman. Melnick immediately knew what the 'more' had to be.

"Oh Sam… she got pregnant, didn't she? She got pregnant during the rape? This was what …1969, 1970…?"

"It was 1968. Four years before _Roe v Wade_," he said miserably.

A chill went through Melnick as she thought about high school friends who'd been faced with similar situations.

"Mexico," Melnick offered.

"Good old TJ, " he said bitterly,"You know what it was like back then. When it was done, her mother shipped her off to Richmond until she was ready for college. Only reason I know so much is, when Jeff Dalton received death threats years later, it was determined the threats came for a group that was crossin' state lines. Made the case a federal matter and I was assigned to prosecute it. That's when I saw Filli again."

Melnick nodded, as she tried to put the pieces together in her mind.

"Danielle, even her husband doesn't know. If this comes out now, it'll ruin her."

Melnick wrapped her arms tighter around Prescott as she leaned against him; as if the tighter she held him the more she could ease his pain.

"You didn't tell Brooke?"

"Oh honey, how can I? This thing is already a big enough mess. Too many people have been hurt already, includin' Mal and Jack. Mal's a good woman but right now, her first loyalty is to Jack, which is as it should be."

"Don't forget Lori Mills, the aide your brother killed," she said gently. "Sam, he killed once that we know of. What if he does it again?"

"Sweet Danielle, I think about that every minute of every day, now. That's why I lost control with Mal today. I don't know how to make this right," he said with sorrow that made Melnick want to weep. "That girl and her family…not mention what happened to my own wife… If I expose him I expose Felicity and you know what the press will do to her. It will be as if he raped her all over again."

Melnick could hear the sound of her cell phone. Reluctantly, she excused herself, correctly guessing who would be on the other end.

A few minutes later, Prescott looked expectantly at her as she returned.

"I assume Jack is on his way over with a shot gun or a warrant."

"It's even better than that. Your ex wife is downstairs."

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

After several minutes of intense discussion with a more than concerned Danielle Melnick, Sam Prescott stepped off the elevator and joined his former wife in the lobby of Melick's apartment building. As he walked towards her the shame and self loathing were evident in how Prescott carried himself, as well as the expression on his face.

"Honey, I don't even know-," he began somberly.

"I'm not here for that," she said with equal gravity. "Let's get some air."

Prescott nodded, making an automatic attempt to take her arm. The look on her face as she walked past him stopped him cold. Once they had walked through the revolving door into the cool April afternoon, Prescott followed her silently down the street until they came upon an empty bench.

"Are you alright," he asked at last.

"I've been through worse, as you well, know," she responded simply. "Whatever set you off, it's clear you don't feel you can trust me with it-"

"Oh Mal, it's not as simple as that."

"Look. The reason I'm here is that I know, no matter how you try to justify it, if you don't help Jack get your brother off the streets you won't be able to live with yourself," she said as she continued to look towards the late Sunday afternoon traffic. "If it was in you to let a murderer go free, no matter what the cost to you personally, you would have dropped the Valenski case the second either of us was in danger."

"The decisions I made during the Valenski case were child's play compared to this," Prescott replied. "No matter what I do here, someone I care about is going to get hurt. This is lesser of two evils stuff."

Malinowski resisted the urge to attempt to play the guilt card and remained silent on the subject of her ex husband's previous decisions. Prescott shook his head, immediately sensing the irony of his statement, and turned to gauge his ex wife's reaction.

"Man, I just keep getting myself in deeper and deeper don't I?"

"Yeah, you do," she said at last, as she looked into his eyes. "If I thought it would get you to tell me the whole story, I'd give you a reality check on the wisdom of your last decision to 'protect' a woman you loved. But, we both know it won't change anything, so why put either of us through it?"

"Mal, you have to know how badly-"

Malinowski waved an impatient hand towards him.

"Sam, I know you think you're between a rock and a hard place. I don't have to know the details," she said softly, while she placed a hand on top of his. "You know Jack has the SVU and well as Major cases digging up whatever there is to know about you half brother. It's just a matter of time before they find a witness or a victim that's willing to come forward. We both know this didn't start or end with your friend Felicity. "

"And we've both seen enough serial rapists he isn't just goin' stop on his own." he said miserably.

"That we have," she agreed, as she stood. "Which is why I pushed you so hard this afternoon. If you really think this is just about trying to put a lid on the negative publicity about Jack, or even my own selfish need for vengeance, well I guess we don't know each other as well as I thought."

"I said a lot things I shouldn't have this afternoon. You've never had a vengeful heart, Mal," he responded as he stood as well. He began to place a hand on her arm, but stopped himself.

"Oh Sam, I hate to disillusion you," she said with a sad smile. "When it comes to this oh yes… yes, I do. Even if I don't remember all the details, I want what every rape victim wants. I want to know there is no way my attacker can come after me or any other woman again. Yeah there is vengeance in my heart and the thing is, I'm not ashamed to admit that to you. With or without your help, I will find away to see that that son of a bitch gets what he deserves."


	31. Brooke and Jack

By the time he heard the front door open, Jack McCoy was half way through Brooke Malinowski's address book. As he had waited for her to return from what he deemed as a pointless meeting with Sam Prescott, McCoy became increasing concerned. After almost three hours he tired her cell phone, only to find himself listening to her voice mail greeting. His next call was to Danielle Melnick who told him Prescott had returned to her apartment almost an hour before.

After making the usual calls to her brother and Jake Cohen, neither of which had heard from her, he started calling her friends in Manhattan, starting with Ben and Shambala Stone. As the hour grew later, his concern grew deeper. He finally broke down and tried Mike Logan's home number out of a combination of desperation and dread.

"I didn't mean to worry you."

"What makes you think I was worried," he said crisply as he rung the receiver up. "No one's seen you since you left your ex husband standing on the corner of Fifth and Broadway, you aren't answering your phone, and you share my tendency to try to drink away your problems. Why would not hearing from you for four hours worry me?"

Malinowski set her things on the coat rack by the door and rubbed her eyes.

"For the record Jack, you don't have to call the NYPD when those rare times occur that I need to be by myself for a while."

"For the record," he retorted gruffly, "if I'd known I was going to need the investigative skills to track down my future wife, I'd have followed in my father's footsteps. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't find myself calling Mike Logan at home on a Saturday."

"Oh for God's sake, Jack," she snapped as she poured herself a shot of tequila. "I was at the law library, over at the university. I was trying to do a little research on that bastard ex brother in law of mine, when two uniformed cops inform me the DA and a detective from major cases are trying to locate me. God, it was not only embarrassing, but pretty damned annoying."

"If you'd answered your phone that could have been avoided," he said stubbornly.

"If you didn't feel the need to hover, maybe I'd have been more inclined to-"

"I'm not going to apologize for worrying about you," said replied defensively as he followed her across the room to the bed. "I wasn't happy about you seeing Prescott and I let it go. When you didn't came back… Brooke this is Manhattan, not Islip. Wandering around upset and distracted….let's just say I've seen too many tragedies that could have been avoided that started out with those ingredients."

Malinowski set her boots beside the bed as she leaned back against the headboard. It was one of the first things the couple had chosen together for the loft. It was an old fashioned brass poster bed. The maze colored canopy matched the bed linens and comforter that covered the bed. A color compromise that was the first of several compromises, as they began decorating the loft.

Even as they stubbornly continued their disagreement, Malinowski could feel the tension start to lessen, as she got comfortable beside him. She remembered when they had settled on the bed. After hours of searching the array of discount stores on the lower Westside, as soon as they saw it, they were in immediate agreement that it was exactly the bed they had been looking for..

_"… __a__ soft place to fall at the end of the day," she had said looking anxiously up at him. "This is about as soft as it gets."_

_"Soft, but sturdy," he had said with an impish grin. __"Stronger than she looks. __Quite lovely, as well."_

_Malinowski had laughed, as she felt her face start to glow._

_"Are we still talking about beds, counselor?"_

_"__I've found my safe place to fall," he whispered. "Fin__ding__ a bed is an added bonus"_

She caught his eye when she glanced over to his side of the bed. Although the halting voice he'd used for so many years as a prosecutor came out of his mouth without so much as a second thought, she could see the dark eyes soften ever so slightly.

"… You're too good a prosecutor not to recognize the signs, Brooke," he continued. "You're taking unnecessary risks and you know it."

Malinowski sighed as she nodded, reluctantly.

"I suppose I should have thought to call you before I headed over to Columbia. After talking to Sam I just felt so... I don't know... so at loose ends. I just needed to see what I could find myself."

"You know how many detectives and ADA's are working this case," he said as he swung his arm around her shoulders. "Sitting in the law library doing goggle searches isn't going to turn up anything new. Besides, if you really want to get a stiff neck and blood shot eyes over this, Connie has boxes of discs waiting in her office to be reviewed."

"Yeah," she said with a chuckle," like you'd let me within twenty yards of that stuff. Not only would both of us risk disbarment, but letting me play show and tell with your evidence could taint anything we might find on our scavenger hunt."

"I could have Sam cited for assault after what Danielle and I saw. I could use the charge as leverage find out what else he's holding back?"

Malinowski let out a mirth filled laugh while she gave him a light kiss on the lips.

"Only if you want Danielle to file the prosecutorial misconduct charges before she buys Sam his double espresso and blue berry muffin for breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Danielle doesn't intimidate me. You know I'd do it," he said playfully kissing her nose.

"I'll take your word for it."

"At least I got a laugh out of you."

"You did that, my love," she replied as she reached for the glass of tequila on the night table. "I thank you for that."

"Just thinking about the expression on Danielle's face if I had Sam picked up, makes it a tempting idea," he said as he started to sit up. "I don't suppose you stopped and ate while you were out? I could heat up some of that stew I made-"

"Only if you haven't eaten. I think I'll just finish my drink and call it a night. I have a lot of prep work to do tomorrow since today was kind of a wash."

McCoy glanced at the kitchen cabinet doors that remained in the pile they had started Friday night.

"Maybe I should plan on sanding those while you work on your case?"

Malinowski looked thoughtfully first at the doors, and then her gaze fell on the coffee table where McCoy's model sailboat sat. Although she felt a pang of guilt for bein gslightly less than honest with her lover about her real reasons for stopping at the library, Malinowski knew the additional research she had done on a subject she'd had on her mind since the last weekend would more than make up for her deceit, if everything went according to plan.

"If you don't mind, let's put that on hold until next weekend, when I can help."

"Are you sure," he asked, his surprise evident, as he returned to the bed. "Most women I know would jump at the chance to pawn off the prep work on their man and just do the staining."

"Well," she replied with mock indignation, "I'm not like most women and I'm rather offended that you thought I was."

"Fine," he said holding his hands up in surrender. "Far be it from me to keep you from breaking your nails and getting splinters in your hands. Next weekend it is."

"Good," she responded with a triumphant grin, while her fingers began unbuttoning the front of McCoy's shirt. "Now then, since I gave you such scare today, I suppose you deserve a reward for putting up with me."

McCoy grinned back as he slipped the shirt off.

"I suppose I do. What did you have in mind?"

"Let's see what we have left," she said as she rummaged through her night table drawer.

After several seconds she faced him again with two small bottles in her hand

"Alright, Jack, what's your pleasure? Peppermint invigorates, lavender relaxes?"

"Peppermint also makes me crave a peppermint patty ice crème afterwards," he joked.

"That leaves the lavender. I assume you'd like me to warm it up?"

McCoy laughed quietly as he reached for her.

"Maybe after I warm up my masseuse," he whispered before kissing her.

Twenty minutes and several kisses later, McCoy watched as Malinowski pulled a robe out of the closet after piling the discarded clothes on the bench at the end of the bed. As she took the bottle of massage oil to the microwave his thoughts inexplicably returned to Danielle Melnick.

McCoy remembered the night Melnick took a bullet via a follower of one of her clients, after Jack McCoy played out a deadly bluff. The bluff that gave him a confession that kept a racist killer behind bars and cleared his old friend of charges that had threatened to not only get her disbarred, but put in prison, as well.

The cost had been a bullet that had landed Melick in ICU and nearly her crippled for life.

It was the kind of bluff McCoy swore to himself he'd never be so cavalier to try again… until that moment.


	32. Jack's Bluff

"What the hell is this McCoy? Haven't you learned when to quit yet," demanded Congressman John Prescott, as he and his counsel took their seats in the conference room on the tenth floor of One Hogan Place.

"I'm not the one that is about to face extradition charges to a death penalty state, Congressman," McCoy retorted dispassionately.

"Death penalty state," repeated defense attorney Charles Garnett. "Jack, if you're refereeing to those allegations in West Virginia, you better review the statues. West Virginia is not a death penalty state and even if it was, there's nothing-"

"I am referring to a crime your client committed in Georgia in the late sixties," McCoy responded as he kept his eyes on Prescott.

"Being this is the first I've heard of these charges, maybe you'd like to explain to me how they fail to fall under the statute of limitations. Even in Georgia, rape charges-"

"This charge involves child rape by a legal adult. Under Georgia, such a crime has no statute of limitations and falls under the requirements for the death penalty," McCoy said as he slid the manila file in front of him to Garnett. "I've already spoken to the DA in Atlanta. His people are interviewing the victim this afternoon. Once they're done the extradition order will be filed and honored by New York county."

"Felicity," Prescott said incredulously, as his eyes glared back at McCoy."My God McCoy, this is reaching, even for you!"

"Not according to the victim," he said bluntly,"Not according to your brother."

McCoy smiled inwardly at the fleeting look of uncertainty that crossed his advisory's face.

"There's no way Sam would talk to you about Felicity-"

"John, "Garnett interrupted sharply, while he continued to leaf through the file. "Let me handle this. Jack, this is a lot of supposition. No witness statement, no complaint…"

"That all changes when Atlanta get the DNA evidence back from the lab."

Prescott chuckled as he leaned back in his chair.

"There is no DNA evidence, McCoy," Prescott sneered."Even if I was the animal you make me out to be, I would have had the presence of mind it use a condom if I had actually raped somebody-"

"John for God's sake, let me earn my fee," Garnett snapped.

"That is probably true, "McCoy said with deadly calmness in his voice."But remember, you were only nineteen then. A legal adult, but like most young men, not terribly patient or well versed in birth control methods."

"What the hell you are saying, "Prescott insisted.

"I'm saying there was child concieved, Congressman. A child with your DNA, born nine months after the rape of Felicity Fairchild. A child that was still born. A child whose remains Ms. Fairchild has consented to have tested by the Atlanta crime lab to confirm a DNA match on."

Prescott shook his head slowly, as he processed what McCoy had said.

"If that's so and I do mean _if_ McCoy, do you really expect me to believe that girl'd wait all these years to file charges?"

"Congressman, I really have no interest in what you believe. My only interest is seeking justice for your victims in New York County. Victims that include a murder victim named Lori Mills."

"Until you have your results back from Atlanta, there's really nothing to discuss," Garnett said as he began to stand.

"Once I have those results my deal is off the table and your client starts packing for his trip south."

"What do you want McCoy,"Prescott asked indifferently.

"I want a confession," McCoy said simply.

"On what charge?"

"John, this is premature-"

"Charlie, I know what I'm doing," Prescott said shrewdly, as waved an impatient hand at the attorney.

"Murder Two, fifteen to live," McCoy responded."We already know you had access to the drug she overdosed on, with your history as a sexual predator; it's not hard to figure out what happened. You drugged her with the intention of raping her. You had no idea she'd already snorted cocaine earlier in the evening. I doubt the murder was part of your original plan."

"You expect me to do fifteen years for a murder that, even by your own account, was an accident? "

McCoy leaned across the table as his eyes bore into Prescott's.

"It's a gift, given all the other women you've victimized."

"You mean it's a gift because you can't nail me on the nonsense your fiancée has fed you and-"

"Start packing, Congressman. This meeting is over," McCoy announced as he started for the door.

"Come off it McCoy, you've been with her long enough to know-"

"John, shut up," Garnett said curtly. "Jack, don't make this personal. If you have what you say you have, Man Two-"

"Man Two? Please Charlie, you know me better than that, "McCoy said as he stopped in the door way. "As for making this personal, it's your client that seems to be obsessed with charges that haven't even been filed against him. If I wanted to make the rape of someone close to me personal, trust me we wouldn't be sitting here discussing a deal."

"Listen, you're an elected official now," Prescott persisted. "You've had your share of sex scandals, even before now. When you're a man powerful man with influence, some women see that as a chance to gain notoriety, even a chance for financial gain –"

"Either take the deal or don't ," McCoy said heatedly, almost forgetting the illusion he was working under. "But, don't for a moment think that I don't know what you are. I've seen enough career felons in over twenty years in this office. Elected official or not, you're no better than the last rapist I convicted. You're probably worse because not only are you a murderer and a rapist, but you've abused the power the people gave you as an elected official."

"To hell with you, McCoy," Prescott declared arrogantly. "You want to make a deal? You get my brother in here and we might have something to talk about."


	33. Making a Deal with the Devil

Sam Prescott waited until McCoy closed his office door before he began his tirade of questions. Having been handed an urgent message from the DA's office while addressing a multinational group of civil rights attorneys who were working to further civil rights with the help of Amnesty International, Prescott had been less than thrilled to learn he'd been summoned to Hogan Place via police escort.

He'd been even less thrilled to find upon his arrival Connie Rubirosa waiting for him at the front entrance of the building. By the time the Rubirosa had ushered him into McCoy's office, he'd been told enough to know the fairy tale his former wife's fiancée was weaving in order to obtain a confession from his half brother.

"I ought to report you to the state bar myself," he said with disgust."Did you even stop to think about the consequences when John figures out what you're tryin' to pull?"

"By the time that happens, he'll have signed a confession and it won't matter. Unless you plan on going in there and telling him now. In which case, you'll be ensuring that not only will a murderer go free, but the man that raped your wife will go free,as well."

"I know you might find this hard to believe Jack, but I'd like nothin' more than for John to pay for what he did to Mal. But there is this little called _evidence_. Manufacturin' evidence _isn't_ the same thing as _havin'_ it."

"There's a simple solution to that," McCoy countered, as the two men stood beside McCoy's desk."Tell me what I need to know to get a hold of Felicity Fairchild. If she is willing to press charges, the extradition order will become reality and I'd be more than happy to let a Georgia jury decide a death penalty case that involves the rape of an underage girl."

"I've explained this as many times as I plan to," Prescott said firmly. "I'm not putin' her through that."

"You know it's just a matter of time before my detectives locate her –"

"Well, maybe you should of thought of that before draggin' the man in here without a shred of solid evidence."

"I don't have time to go around in circles with you, Sam," McCoy as he leaned across the desk and turned the picture at its center around. "She can't wait weeks for the detectives to find Ms. Fairchild."

Prescott picked up the photo of McCoy standing between his daughter and Prescott's former wife proudly displaying a good sized blue gill. He couldn't help but smile at the woman who had obviously evolved from refusing to bait her own hook, to a woman willingly standing within inches of a live fish. Under different circumstances, Prescott would have jokingly congratulated McCoy in his transformation of the woman Prescott had known to be a city girl through and through.

"Even if I did what you asked, there isn't any DNA evidence to back Felicity up and you know it," Prescott said sharply. "We are talkin' late sixties, Jack. DNA wasn't even a thought back then."

"If there was any evidence collected… a dress, a pair of panties, whatever they had, it could be analyzed," McCoy countered. "The odds aren't great, but you know it's a chance-"

"A chance I will not take with this woman's life." Prescott said stubbornly, as he returned the picture to the desk. "I also will not lie to a suspect just so you can get your way."

"Fine," McCoy said briskly, as he opened the folder on the desk. "Then you can not only explain to Brooke why she can't have the peace she deserves, you can explain to Lori Mills's parents why her murder means nothing to you."

"I never did jump at blackmail threats Jack, emotional or otherwise."

"You think that's emotional blackmail? I haven't even started yet," he countered. "When I do find Felicity Fairchild make no mistake, I _will_ rip her life apart. Everything of consequence that's happened to her in the last several decades will become public record. You how public that record can become if a person if linked to someone as high profile as a U.S. congressman."

"You son of a bitch," Prescott breathed, as he tried to recover from his shock. "You'd victimize her all over again?"

"I won't enjoy it," McCoy admitted," but if it gets John Prescott behind bars for a while, I'd do it without a second thought."

"You'll lose Mal if you do," Prescott said earnestly. "Once she finds out, she'll never forgive you for puttin' another woman through that. If I know one thing about my former wife, it's how she reacts to being disillusioned. She'll leave you when she realizes how far you'd go to win a case, no matter what the reasons."

McCoy looked down at the floor as he considered Prescott's words. Personally, he knew Prescott was right. Brooke Malinowski was a compassionate woman. A woman that would be sickened by seeing a rape victim violated by the media. A woman who would more than likely be equally sickened by the man who orchestrated such an event.

He knew if Malinowski left him, he'd sink into despair, even lower than he had when Claire died. As excruciatingly painful as that had been, the relationship had been at an impasse for some time.

Kincaid's biological clock had begun quietly, but steadily ticking, while McCoy's rapid approach to mid life had made him wary of another marriage, much less another child. He knew, even if she had lived, the chances of them making a marriage work were about fifty fifty.

With Malinowski the longer they were together, the more certain he had become that they could build a life together. He knew, given both their natural independence and natural stubbornness, that life would be far from tranquil. But he relished the idea of meeting and overcoming whatever challenges they met along the way. The last thing he wanted was to lose her, especially over a case.

"Jack," Prescott said carefully, after several silent moments had passed. "I know what I'm talkin' about. You may _think_ you won her before I came home. Hell, she probably would have married you whether I came back or not. But you didn't have her whole heart then. I know she couldn't completely let go of what we had. Neither of us could. Not until she realized…not until I came back and shattered the image she had of a man who'd never lie to her. _That's_ when you won her, heart and soul. Not a minute sooner."

"I'll tell you what _I_ know," McCoy said as he looked back up at Prescott. "I know that a woman is dead. I know that man sitting in the conference room is responsible. I know you have the power to help me get a murderer off the streets without compromising your loyalty to Ms. Fairchild. I know if you don't help me your brother will feel more empowered. He'll have beat the system and will most assuredly rape again. He may even graduate to rape / homicide since it looks like there won't be a consequence for Lori Mills. So you tell me, whose Brooke going to loathe more? Me or you, Sam?"


	34. Sail Away

Three weeks later, Brooke Malinowski sat with her former husband at the back of the courtroom and listened to John Prescott allocate to the murder of Lori Mills. She turned slightly to see how Sam Prescott was holding up, as well as to glance more easily at the door.

Part of her hoped Danielle Melnick's plea bargain would wrap up early. Malinowski knew, no matter how hard Prescott tried not to show it, watching his sibling confess to drugging a young aide in order to seduce her had to be painful. To learn he had also done nothing to help the young woman when it was apparent she had over dosed, was chilling at best. As much as she still cared for her ex husband, she knew he needed the current woman in his life by his side.

Noticing Sam reach discreetly for his handkerchief, Malinowski slipped her hand in his. Neither McCoy nor Prescott hadn't said much about the events that led up to John Prescott taking a Murder Two plea. Malinowski and Melnick both had noticed the coolness between the two men had grown much more noticeable immediately after the plea was announced.

As hard as both women had pressed, neither had been able to find out what deal with the devil had been made. Given the fact Melnick's tenacity was legendary and even _she_ had drawn a blank with both men, Malinowski was beginning to think finding out the truth behind John Prescott's plea bargain was a lost cause.

"Ms. Novak, are the people satisfied the terms of the plea have been met, "Judge Walter Bradley inquired, as Danielle Melnick slipped into the empty space on the other side of Prescott.

Malinowski returned the other woman's nod, as she slipped her hand from Prescott's and made her way towards the door.

A few minutes later, she was reaching for Jack McCoy's outstretched hand, as they met on the courthouse steps.

"Thought you were in meetings until five," she asked, while they made their way down the steps.

"The Mayor has the flu," he explained as they moved toward the line of cabs at the curb."I thought you had court in Islip until four?"

"Judge granted defense counsel's motion for a continuance until Monday," she fibbed while saying a silent prayer of thanks for the mayor's sudden ill health. "Everything else was either in good shape or had to wait until the start of the week, so I figured I give Sam some morale support until Danielle was free. I'm glad I did, too. It looks like this business with John is hitting him pretty hard."

McCoy nodded as he opened the cab door.

"It's got to be tough to realize that kind of depravity runs in your own family," McCoy replied. "are you up for a early dinner before we start sanding those cabinets?"

"Actually, "she said while she handed the driver an address," I need to make a quick stop. Do you mind?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on where you want to stop," he said with a chuckle.

Malinowski gave him a shy smile.

"Just trust me, Jack. I don't think you'll be disappointed. I was surprised when I got your message. What brought you to the courthouse, anyway? I was going to run my errand and meet you at the loft."

McCoy raised his eyebrows at her evasiveness and shrugged his shoulders.

"I thought I'd have looked at how Casey tied up the loose ends on the Prescott case."

"Geez, Jack, give the girl a break! It's not like John Prescott would elicit sympathy from anyone, especially a Sex Crimes prosecutor. She made a mistake; I thought you were over it."

"Haven't you heard the expression 'trust but verify'?"

The debate over Casey Novak's conduct in a recent case of a child rapist served Malinowski's plans better than she could have hoped for. By the time McCoy realized the direction the cab was heading, they were almost to the marina at the end of the Chelsea Piers. After paying the cabby, McCoy turned to find his fiancée heading down one of the gangplanks at the end of the first row of boats that were docked. After calling after her to slow down, he moved swiftly to try to catch up with her.

As he started down the gangplank towards the white sailboat he slowed his pace as he eyed the boat much the way a child eyes their first bike. Malinowski grinned as she checked his progress from the porthole of the boats galley. By the time she came back above deck, carrying a bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes, McCoy was studying the line of the sail.

"Hey, McCoy! Quit gawking and come make yourself useful!"

"Does your errand entail pilfering champagne while you wait for the owner," he asked as he poured, while Malinowski held the glasses out.

"If it does, just remember drinking it with me makes you an accessory after the fact," she said slyly, as she handed him a glass. "How long has it been since you sailed one of these things, Jack?"

"I used to rent one most summers when Becky was young, "he said, while he took a token sip of the cool beverage.

Suddenly he stopped talking and looked the label on the bottle he had set on the railing. He turned back to his fiancée wearing a look of utter confusion. While champagne wasn't his drink of choice, McCoy had become more familiar with the higher end brands of the beverage, since becoming DA.

McCoy had been shopping with Malinowski enough time to know her financial sense was very much in keeping with his great grandmother McCoy's almost compulsive frugalness. A trait that he might have found frustrating to deal with on a daily basis prior to his two divorce settlements and the rapid approach of the beginning of his retirement years.

"Do you realize this is a three hundred dollar bottle of champagne? Since when do you drink Dom Perignon other than at a charity benefit?"

"Are you implying that I'm cheap," she retorted with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm implying that unless you're having some sort of menopausal break with reality, this is completely out of character for you," he shot back smugly. "Now answer the question."

"I'd advise you not to piss off the menopausal one, McCoy. Courts have acquitted murderers based on menopausal rage, don't forget."

"Not in my jurisdiction," he shot back as he finished the glass. "The question was, since when do you buy high end liquor, counselor?"

"Since I decided surprising you was worth doing right," she said as she refilled his glass. "So are you saying you haven't sailed since Becky was – what – in grammar school?"

"Brooke what's going on," he asked as he began to feel slightly faint, in part due to drinking on an empty stomach, as well due to the flood of possible answers to his question that flooded his mind.

"I just decided it was high time you lived your dream, my love. Remember, you are the guy that in spite of his pure heart, still wants the boat," she replied blithely, as she moved towards the wheel of the boat. "Now I checked with your personal assistant this morning and she said your calendar was clear until Monday morning – is that still right?"

"Are you saying you rented the boat for the weekend?"

Malinowski shrugged her shoulders as she reached for th emap beside the wheel.

"Sort of," she said evasively as she finished her champagne. "Listen the weather is supposed to be perfect for sailing this weekend. Why don't you take a look at the map while I change -"

"Change? You already brought clothes down?"

"This morning before I went to work. I stocked the fridge and brought some things down for both of us."

McCoy nodded his early morning concern at not finding his favorite pair of jeans or his all weather jacket, immediately put to rest.

"Sounds like you've been planning this for a while."

"Not that long. Our conversation about your model boat inspired me," she said with a smile as she thought about the true focus of her research the day the uniformed officers had tracked her down at the library.

"I guess this means we put off the kitchen cabinets one more weekend. What does that make it? Four weeks since we pulled them down?"

"Are you saying you'd rather sand cabinets than sail your boat," she asked with a mock pout.

"Well, no…, "he began. Suddenly her word registered and McCoy felt the blood drain from his face. "What do you mean '_my_' boat? "

Malinowski giggled with childish delight as she kissed his bewildered face.

"I mean, you said to be sure I was ready to stay put for a while before we started on those cabinets, remember? Well, as much as I think we both love the loft, you have a few dreams you've neglected over the years and as your future wife, I would like to see you fulfill at least one of them," she said as she led him to a set of nearby chairs. "This boat is part of an estate sale. Right now, the owner is willing to lease or sell. I told him you and I would need to take the boat out for the weekend to see if it was what you had in mind, if it was large enough for us to consider living on it. If you like it, between my part of the settlement on the Islip house and your investments, we could make a considerable down payment."

"What about the loft," he said more than stunned. "I know what a nest builder you are, Brooke. Do you really think you could be happy living on a boat?"

Malinowski beamed as she looked up at him.

"Jack, I could be happy living in shack with you," she replied as she kissed him. "Besides, you're the one with the books and the grandfather clock. The question is, are you ready to do some serious down sizing?"


	35. Calming the Waters

The forecast for the early spring evening was for unseasonably warm weather.Malinowski kept the good weather in mind when she bought fixings for a steak dinner that could be prepared to eat out on the deck as the sun went down. While McCoy barbequed the steaks that had been marinating all day, she prepared the vegetables for the grill and finished dressing a fruit salad made the night before.

As he stood at the grill, McCoy replayed the events of the last hour in his mind. As touched as he was by his lover's generosity, he still couldn't quite believe how far she was willing to go to ensure his happiness.

"Either you burned the steaks or you're over thinking again," she remarked as she set the bowl of fruit salad on the table."Wipe that scowl off your face or I'll have to find someone else to help me with _my_ fantasy for the weekend."

McCoy shot her an amused look as he began filling a platter with the cooked meat.

"Which is?"

Malinowski coyly lowered her eyes as he sat beside her.

"I've always wanted to make love on a boat."

"All those years in an ocean community and you never …?"

"Believe it or not I was a late bloomer Jack," she simply as they began to fill their plates."My first time was after I finished in law school."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least," he said seriously. "Although, Stanford isn't too far from the California coast. No weekend get a way cruises on the coast in a sailboat after finals?"

Malinowski smiled up at him while she shook her head.

"What I lost in a social life, I gained later by not having student loan debt to pay off," she said between mouthfuls of steak. "I worked during the breaks. I waited tables whether I was in California or back home for a visit. Being in the food service industry makes me an authority on the quality of food preparation, so trust me when I say this steak is fantastic."

"I appreciate your expert opinion," he said with a chuckle. "I guess I was luckier than most. I worked during break also, but I received a full scholarship. The only thing I paid for out of pocket was books and living expenses. Between two responsible roommates and all of our care packages from our mothers, there was usually money to spend if a cute redhead happened to cross my path."

"Wow, now _that's_ a dangerous thought. Jack McCoy: The College Years," she said teasingly. "I'll bet you broke more than your share of hearts back then."

"Why in the world would you think that,' he said with a sheepish grin. "You know most law students spend the majority of their time out of class in the stacks at the law library."

"I also know how in awe college girls are of guys that are pre-law," she said knowingly as she began buttering her baked potato. "Especially guys that write for the law review as articulately as you did."

McCoy's eyes shot up from his plate in amazement.

"And you know this how?"

"When I couldn't sleep at your place, I'd get up and thumb through that over used bookcase of yours," she explained. "A couple of times I happened on one of the old Law Review Journals from your days at NYU. I was impressed at your insight into the rights of the accused and their importance in maintaining a free society. Those words told me a lot about the kind of man that lives behind that gruff prosecutorial exterior you put up."

_…she'll leave you…. when she realizes how far you'd go to win a case, no matter what the reasons…__she… __**will**__…leave you…__ one thin__g about my former wife…__ she reacts to being disillusioned…to being disillusioned… You may think you won her before ... you didn't have her whole heart … she couldn't completely let go of what we had…not until she realized…not until I came back and shattered the image she had… the image she had__…_

As he listened to Malinowski, as he looked into eyes that seemed to reflected back the illusion she had of theethical man she thought he was, while Prescott's words blared accusingly in the back of his mind.

"Brooke, I'm far from perfect," he snapped as he abruptly stood and moved towards the other end of the boat.

Malinowski watched him go as she sighed. She had hoped with John Prescott's plea accepted by the court some of the strain McCoy had been showing would disappear. When she realized the weekend she had reserved the boat for coincided with Prescott's day in court, it seemed like the perfect time to begin focusing on the future again. The fact the six months required to make her divorce a reality had ended that day, was even more icing on the cake.

She stood and started towards the figure that stood with his back to her, stiffly looking out at the lights of the city. After a moment, she changed her mind and instead took as much as she could from the table and started towards the galley steps.

As much as wanted to wait him out and not push him any more than she already felt she had, after busying herself in the galley for nearly an hour, she could stand it no more. A glass of scotch in one hand, a full champagne flute in the other, she walked purposely back up to the main deck.

"Hey stranger, mind some company?"

When he turned to face her, it was clear to Malinowski he had something on his mind. Before she could inquire further, he took the glasses and set them on the railing before embracing her.

"I'm sorry I was short with you," he whispered hoarsely. "I have to tell you about how the plea bargain came to be. You're not going to like it, but I have to tell you, before you get in any deeper."

"Jack that's -," she began, only to find herself silenced as his lips muffled the startled sound of her voice.

The kiss itself began tenderly and soon turned passionate, as their breathing deepened and their tongues began a well rehearsed dance neither seemed to tire of. Although she was anxious to hear the details of Prescott's conviction, part of her knew it would be easier to just give into desire and encourage McCoy to abandon anything other than seduction until the next morning.

But, she knew something about the deal was festering inside her lover, something that needed to be pushed out so he could heal. As she stepped back, she picked their drinks and followed him back to the table.

"Jack whatever it is, you can't think I won't understand," she asked quietly as she brushed the hair from his eyes.

"I'm not the man you think I am Brooke. I did exactly what I accused Casey Novak of few weeks ago," he said with heartbreaking shame. "I used the power of my office for personal gain. Not only did I concoct a series of lies to get Prescott to take a plea, I put Sam in a situation where he had no choice but to make his brother and Charles Garnett believe those lies."

Malinowski listened as McCoy took her through his meeting with Garnett and John Prescott, as well as his confrontation in his office with her ex husband. She worked hard at responded only with a nod or a squeeze of his hand, knowing to interrupt would only make it that much harder for McCoy to said what he thought he needed to say.

Omitting Prescott's warnings about the consequences the pair's relationship would face, McCoy continued on to recall the emotional confrontation between the two brothers.

After assuring him of his ability to deal with his little brother without benefit of counsel, Garner had reluctantly left the three to speak.

Sam Prescott weary sat across from his brother, as the DA stood silent by the door.

John Prescott gave his half brother a crooked smile as he gazed across the table.

_"You really hate me enough to help McCoy send me to a death penalty state, brother dear?"_

_"If you end up on death row in Georgia, it'll be by your own hand John, not mine,"_ Sam said regretfully. _"I didn't rape those women and I sure never killed anyone. My God John, how far do things have to go for you to stop and admit you have a problem?"_

_"The only 'problem' I have,"_ the senior Prescott countered,_" is a tag along little brother that doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."_

_"Take McCoy's deal. Don't gamble with your life just to spite me."_

_"According to the DA here, you're the one acting out of spite,"_ the Congressman retorted with bitter amusement. "I_ still don't believe you'd have the guts to do it though. Maybe I should have my day in a Georgia court – might be worth it to see how well Felicity has fared over the years."_

McCoy could hear Sam Prescott's sharp intake of air, as the other man quietly chuckled.

When both men leaned forward, McCoy could only catch the murderous tones of both men, during the whispered exchange. The looks the brothers exchanged spoke volumes. After several minutes of heated exchange, the younger man stood and glared first at his brother then at McCoy.

_"Take the damned deal and live or I'll go down south and walk Feli through her statement myself. Trust me John, if I go down there you'll have no hope of beatin' the charge after I talk to the Atlanta DA. McCoy, I have somthin' to say to you outside."_

As McCoy closed the conference room door behind him Prescott took him by the arm and roughly led him down the hall until they had returned to the privacy of the DA's office.

_"You have what you sent out to get. By the time you get back in there he will have told his attorney to accept the deal,"_ Prescott said roughly as he slammed the door behind him.

_"How can you be so sure-"_

_"Because I backed up your dog and pony show about Atlanta having DNA evidence,"_ Prescott whipped back_. "Now, if you want that confession to hold, I suggest you get it writin' and properly witnessed before Mr. Garnett puts two and two together and has us both disbarred. As for your office's investigation into Felicity Fairchild, it stops here and now or I'll beat Charles Garnett to the ethics committee myself."_

_"I don't react well to threats, Sam."_

_"I don't give a rat's ass how you react, McCoy. I just effectively put my brother prison, as well as risked disbarment by actively participating in entrapment. I did it to protect Felicity from John as much as you. Either you get on the phone right now and end that investigation or I get on the phone and make three calls: One to the state bar, another to the New York Ledger and the last one to my soon to be ex wife and expose you for the ruthless SOB you are."_

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

By the time McCoy finished his story the full moon was high in the sky and warmth generated from consuming three fourths of the contents of the second champagne bottle was all that was keep Malinowski comfortable in the light jacket she wore over her tee shirt and jeans.

McCoy returned from the kitchen with a full glass and a half empty bottle of scotch and ask across from his lover to wait for the assault of words that never came.

"So, which was it," she asked with calmness that made McCoy's eyes widen. "Which of the three calls made you call Mike Logan and his superiors to end the investigation?"

"None of them," he said softly. "Once I had Prescott's signed confession there wasn't any reason to destroy another life."

Malinowski looked downwards, as she tried to hide her knowing smile.

"And this makes you a ruthless SOB because of what? Because my ex-husband says so? Since when did you give a good care what Sam has to say about anything?"

"Since he spent eight years at the center of your life. Since I know how disillusioned you were by his faking his death, no matter how well meaning it was."

"Oh Jack, I got over that months ago," she said with giddiness that confirmed to McCoy how potent top drawer champagne was.

"Well, be that as it may," he tactfully replied," the ironic thing is, after I left Detective Logan the message that the investigation was over, he was in my office an hour later with a file of faxes from Atlanta. Atlanta PD finally tracked Felicity Fairchild down. After reading the details, I understand why Sam stood his ground so stubbornly. She's a prominent minister's wife in the Baptist church now. A prominent woman who got shipped down to Mexico two months after her rape."

"Oh God," Malinowski breathed, as she processed his words."The husband has no idea?"

"None."

"How prominent, Jack?"

"Faye Dalton?"

McCoy reached out to steady her, when Malinowski nearly fell out of her chair upon hearing the name.

"Enough said, Jack. Does Sam know you know?"

McCoy shook his head.

"I shredded the file and had Don Cragen do the same after briefing Logan and Benson on the pleas bargain. Everyone is in agreement no good will come of bringing Felicity Faye Fairtchild Dalton's name into this."

"And remind me again how any of this makes you a…what was it again? Oh yeah, a 'ruthless SOB'?"

McCoy sighed deeply as he took her hands in his.

"Brooke, I violated the code of ethics. I risked not only my career, but Sam's as well."

"Because," she asked patiently.

"Because I'm a ruthless son of a bitch that was determined to keep that bastard away from you no matter what it took," he said thinly hiding his impatience. "I'm hardly the bastion of virtue you like to believe I am."

"Oh I get it now," Malinowski said with exaggerated clarity."I'm supposed to be repelled by you because played dirty to put a murdering rapist away because you wanted to protect me?"

"Brooke, maybe you don't see it right now. But in the morning when you think about what I've done and why, well I doubt you'll still want to chuck everything sail around the world with me."

"Jack McCoy are you really so arrogant as to think you're the only prosecutor on this boat that's found themselves the victim of personal bias in a case," she said with seriousness that surprised him."Do you really think after almost twenty years in the DA's office my ethics are squeeky clean?"

"That doesn't make what I did right," he said irritably.

""Did you put an innocent man in prison? Did you frame John for that murder? Did you plan the evidence Benson and Logan found to link him to the date rape drug? Well," she demanded tersely,"_did_ you?"

"And if I'd had to call Sam's bluff and bring the Dalton woman into it? You still think you'd be so calm about the way I handled this case?"

"What the hell is wrong with you," she asked in a scholding tone that betrayed her frustration. "As long as you don't make a habit out of playing fast a loose with the ethics code, I sure as hell have no plans to judge you. It was your case, not mine! And let me tell you something, if it _had_ been my case I wouldn't have given Sam more than half a second to come clean or I'd of had his ass sitting in Riker's for obstruction."

"You think you're a ruthless SOB," she said as she stood and leaned across the table. "You have _no idea_ what I did to ensure convictions in some of the rape cases I handled, early in my career. It's a crime that never ends and it haunts the victim's soul. I'd have never have asked you to compromise your ethics for me Jack, but I won't say I'm sorry you did. If that's the kind of tight assed perfectionist you want for a wife, maybe you better walk away while you can and try wooing one of your former assistants back into your bed."

"_What_," he snapped incredulously.

"You know Connie seems like a 'color inside the lines' kind of lady, maybe you'd be happier-"

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Brooke," he bellowed as he followed her below deck towards the master cabin.

"Hey I brought you down here to celebrate the end of the case, as well as the end of my divorce," she countered as she started collecting her things and placing them in the overnight bag on the bed. "I didn't spend two grand on this evening so I could get quietly plastered while you turned stupid."

"I thought you had a right to know what kind of man I really am. If you want to delude yourself into-"

"_Delude_ myself," she said as she dropped the bag on the floor."Are you insane?!? I'm a free woman Jack, do you get that? If I didn't know who you were inside, do you really think I'd of pulled up stakes and moved to Manhattan? Either you are having second thoughts or…"

McCoy waited while her voice trailed off. He watched her expression change for frustrated outrage to disbelief to finally, resignation as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"_Are_ you having second thoughts Jack?"

"If I were having second thoughts I'd have told you that instead of shining a light on my glaring flaws, " he said as he sat beside her. "I don't want to lose you Brooke, but knowing how much to you value honesty as well as-"

She nodded impatiently as she ran a gentle hand over his cheek.

"I love you Jack. If you love me, that's all that matters."

"_If _I love you? Brooke," he said tenderly, "I'd take you across the border and marry you tonight if you want me to."

Malinowski could feel her anger dissolve as beamed at the thought of eloping.

"Careful Jack, if it wasn't for my niece and your daughter, I'd have you signed sealed and delivered before dawn. For tonight, I'd settle for living a fantasy or two."

"Would you," he asked as he ran a hand slowly across the back of her neck. After moving the auburn locks to one side as his lips moved leisurely over the bare skin, as other arm guided her back onto the mattress. "do you have anything special in mind?"

"You have a free hand on the sex on a boat fantasy," she said softly as she began unbuttoning his shirt. "I can handle the other one Monday."

McCoy paused to look up at her with a questioning expression that she smiled at as she slipped his shirt off of him.

"Do you want to share the other fantasy with me?"

"Well, there are two," she said her attention was diverted to the feel of his warm skin as she ran her hands appreciatively over his smooth chest. "One of these days, I want you to have me under a waterfall…"

"Humm... I think that can be arranged," he replied as he ran his hands under her thin tee shirt. "What's the other?"

"Oh that's a new one. I started thinking about it a few minutes ago when I realized who you've been listening to… it involves the slow torture and eventual death of my ex husband."


End file.
